Page 64 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

“Your favorite book?” She laughed. “Now I know you are truly humoring me.”

“No,” he said. “In fact, I meant to ask you this today—have you considered writing another one?”

He heard her sharp gasp of surprise. “You want me to write another book?”

“Why not?” He grinned at her. “Why stop at only one book? Are there not four Wolves?”

“Y-yes,” she said shakily. “Butfourbooks?”

“I believe that you are more than capable of doing that, Duchess,” he told her. “Four books. Five books. An entire shelf of them. You can write all you want.”

She shook her head. “You do not find it, well, scandalous that your wife is writing and making money out of it?”

“The only scandalous thing,” he said with a wry smile, “is that my wife chose another publisher for her books when she could have chosenmine.”

“Chose another publisher?” Phoebe squeaked before bursting into laughter. “You cannot be jealous about that as well, Ethan!”

“Oh, very jealous indeed, wife,” he told her in a serious tone. “So jealous that I could not stand it and?—”

“Oh no!” she groaned. “You did not have the poor business closed, did you?”

He looked at her with mock hurt. “Do you truly think me so cruel, Duchess? No, I did not have the man’s business closed—I bought it.”

She gaped at him, speechless in her shock, so he continued gently. “I want books with your name on them all over London and the rest of England, and I will do anything to fulfill your heart’s desire to write.”

“You do?”

He nodded and leaned in to brush that stubborn, wayward curl from her cheek.

“So, write all you want, Phoebe,” he murmured huskily. “This husband of yours will make sure you never run out of pages for it.”

And then, she did the most astonishing thing.

Phoebe leaned in andkissedhim. Out there, in the open gazebo, with the sunlight streaming around them, and her hair shining fierce and golden.

And Ethan smiled as he kissed her back.

He was right—it truly was a glorious day for tea.

CHAPTER 19

Ethan nearly groaned in misery the next day when Phoebe walked through the doors in yet another dress that tested his restraint.

While it was true that he had seen far more scandalous clothing on—and off—women’s bodies, this one not only set off his lovely wife’s creamy complexion to perfection, but its square neckline also seemed to emphasize the soft swell of her breasts.

“Good afternoon, Ethan.”

Bloody hell, did her voice just roll over him like a gentle purr?

He smiled through the discomfort in his groin as he walked over to her. That was the thing, though—ever since he married the lovely creature that now took up residence in his estate, none of his pants seemed to ever fit him the way they did before her arrival.

Now, he had to accept that he was simply cursed with ill-fitting breeches—butonlyin her presence. Outside of it, his clothes seemed to fit perfectly fine.

“You look exceptionally lovely today,wife,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of her neck as he helped her into her seat.

She smelled damned good, too. Like a potent ambrosia tailor-made for him.

“Thank you, husband,” she shot back. Her eyes trailed from his face down his body with agonizing slowness. Those luscious lips curled into a smile. “You do not look too bad yourself.”

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