Page 39 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

“My darling Duchess, if you truly mean for us to get to know each other better, then I believe you should be more forthright with me.”

Fair enough. One must be honest if one was to expect honesty in return.

“All right,” she relented. “I had… some difficulty sleeping. Just the excitement from the day, most likely,” she added, before he could insert another of his inappropriate remarks into their conversation.

“Of course.”

She watched as he served himself some ham and bread, before smiling genuinely at her.

“I am quite pleased that you have taken the time to become familiar with the estate. After all, you are now the lady of the house. You may do whatever you please—change the draperies, paint the entire facade pink… Everything now belongs to you.”

Except for his heart.

Phoebe smiled as she cut into her ham. “I will have a sofa added to the library, then,” she told him. “As that is where I will be spending most of my time.”

He looked a little surprised but nodded. “That sounds nice.”

They continued to eat in relative silence, with merely the sound of the cutlery and the obvious tension filling the space between them.

Phoebe had finished her breakfast and was adding some milk to her tea when Ethan spoke again.

“Have you considered amending your terms, my dear Duchess?”

Her hand hovered over the teacup for a moment, and then she smiled lightly.

So, he thought he could simply have her capitulate, didn’t he?

Her dear husband was going to find himself sorely disappointed this morning.

“No, I have not,” she replied blithely, stirring her tea. She set the spoon down on the saucer. “And you owe me as much for saving you from Miss Delaney’s clutches.”

“Indeed,” he averred.

She smiled. “I am glad we are in accord, then.”

He stood up, and she continued to sip her tea. Her papa often left the table early, too, back when he would personally attend to business matters, so she thought nothing of it.

She was surprised, however, when Ethan pulled his chair to sit rightbesideher.

“W-what are you doing?” she squawked.

He grinned at her. “Why, getting to know my Duchess, of course.”

“You can get to know me perfectly from where you were seated earlier!” she protested.

“True, but the connection between us would not have been the same,” he countered.

If by connection, he meant the way his thighs brushed against hers or how he leaned so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his masculine form, then she wasextremelyaware of it.

“You look a little tense, Duchess,” he teased her softly.

She pressed her lips together into a thin line.You think?

“You need not think overmuch about it,” he continued, tucking back that lock of hair that had slipped from her chignon. “I am your husband, after all. It is only natural that we engage in a little conversation after breakfast.”

“You meanoverbreakfast.”

He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “Before, over, after. Does it really matter?”

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