Page 116 of A Virgin for the Ton's Wolf

It was only at that moment that she felt the tension leave his body. Scarlett feared that if he found even the smallest injury on her, he would mop the floor with Lord Colton all over again.

“I am tired,” she sighed, leaning against his chest.

He nodded. “Come. I shall take you home.”

He scooped her up into his arms with ease, and she squeaked in surprise, her arms looping around his neck instinctively.

“Naughty Wolf,” she admonished him with a smile.

“You have not exactly been on your best behavior either, little cat,” he retorted in a low voice.

She laughed softly and rested her head on his shoulder. “Let us go home, husband.”

The manor was awash in light when they arrived. An array of servants stood just outside the door, led by the faithful butler.

Hudson alighted first from the carriage, but when Scarlett stepped out, he immediately lifted her into his arms.

“Hudson!” she squeaked. “Put me down. The servants can see!”

“I truly hope they can so that none of them may spread such falsehoods again,” he said sternly, his voice carrying to the group gathered at the door.

The butler stepped forward and bowed to them. “I sincerely apologize for my oversight, Your Grace. Had I been more prudent, you would not have come into harm’s way.”

Scarlett looked at him kindly. “It was not your fault. She… chose to obey someone else. Even if she had been faithful to me, Lord Colton still would have found a way.”

“You have a generous heart, my love,” Hudson told her. “I would tell you that it is a weakness, but my admiration for it is so great that I cannot rightly call it a character flaw.”

She smiled up at him. “Then consider it one of my defining characteristics and leave it at that.”

“How could I simply leave it at that when I love every little thing about you?”

The servants ducked their heads, some of them shifting on their feet in discomfort as their masters displayed their affection openly.

A love match in the ton was rare. An openly adoring husband even more so.

And here was one, standing right before their very eyes. The Wolf, wrapped around his beaming wife’s little finger.

It was astounding. Impossible.

“The Duchess has suffered a fright,” Hudson announced to them. “Have a bath drawn in my bedchamber.”

There was a flurry of murmurs. He even caught his wife’s raised eyebrow, but he did not care if they found it unusual. He had nearly lost her to the madness and obsession of one man—he would not be so unwise as to squander the opportunity that had been given to him.

“Your bedchamber?” she teased as he insisted on carrying her to his rooms. “My, but you certainly made a statement there.”

He set her down, letting her feet gently touch the carpet as he ran his hands over her. He might have said that he had no other purpose save for ascertaining that she had not beeninjured in any way, but he could not help lingering in certain places—particularly in those that coaxed a light sigh from her, a fluttering of her pulse.

A parade of maids brought in pitchers of hot water and poured it into the massive tub. Another came in to scent it with oil and petals. When the bath was ready, they stepped aside, their heads bowed dutifully.

“Leave us,” Hudson told them softly.

When the door closed behind them, he led Scarlett to the tub, undressed her, and gently began to wash her.

“Hudson,” she murmured, placing a hand over his. “You do not have to do this.”

Oh, but he did. He needed to reassure himself that she was unharmed. That he had not been too late.

“I will make sure that Colton never walks free again,” he swore to her, his voice hoarse with emotion. “For what he did to you, death would be much too simple.”

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