Page 72 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

Very well then. It would have to be a groan of frustration—one of the many he had kept from bubbling forth during each encounter.

“I suppose this is hardly an appropriate topic to discuss over tea,” he managed huskily.

She nodded emphatically.

Then perhaps we should dispense with tea altogether, he wanted to tell her.We can take this discourse further upstairs in mybed.

Instead, he stood up and straightened his jacket as he gave her a tight smile.

“You are right,” he told her. “You need to prepare for the ball tonight. I shall come fetch you later.”

She looked up at him, pleasant surprise clear on her face.

“You will come with me?” she asked him, her voice breathy.

“Of course,” he told her and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek.

It was the only thing he could allow himself. Even then, the feel of her smooth skin, her warmth on his lips, nearly proved to be his undoing.

Later, when he managed to make it to his carriage despite his painful erection, he could only grit his teeth and close his eyes.

One step at a time.

He only prayed he would be able to last for an entire night without dragging her into some darkened nook in the gardens.

Or an empty powder room.

Once more, he groaned as he rubbed a hand over his face.

Whoever thought that wooing a woman he was alreadymarriedto could be this hard?

CHAPTER 21

One should never make promises when one has no intention of keeping them.

These were the very same words that echoed in Phoebe’s head as Ethanvery properly—with just the slightest scandalous caress of her inner wrist—helped her out of their carriage to escort her to the Harolds’ ball that night.

In fact, Phoebe could think of a dozen or more things she would much rather have been doing than submit herself to Ella’s hours-long ball preparation routine right before she submitted herself to the very public scrutiny of everyone who was eager to see the new Duchess of Sinclair—as if they had never seen her in their entire life.

“You look most displeased, Duchess.”

She cast a sideways glance at Ethan and almost immediately regretted it.

Tonight, he had donned a coat of midnight black that contrasted sharply with the crisp white linen of his shirt. From the folds of his immaculately arranged cravat, a ruby the size of a robin’s egg winked at her.

From there, it was only a short distance to his neck, his very masculine jaw, those sensual lips…

All while his thumb was teasingly running over the back of her hand, which had become increasingly sensitive, absolutely begging her to respond to his touch in kind.

She felt her body heat up, priming itself forsomethingshe only had a vague idea of.

Anticipating more of the same.

“I… do not truly care much for balls,” she admitted with a quiet sigh.

He raised an eyebrow. “They are dreadfully boring, are they not?”

Unfortunately so.

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