Page 64 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

Catherine hushed him as another couple drew near but nestled into his light embrace as her father called for silence and began to make his short speech about Jemima’s engagement. Hugh kissed her hair and glanced down at her half-covered breasts longingly. How long now had this gorgeous woman been his?

Thinking of his grandmother’s words on how producing an heir would make Catherine’s position more secure, Hugh roughly counted the weeks and months since she had first come to his bed. Surely, his wife should have bled at least once in that time, and she certainly had not. The thought that Catherine mightalready be carrying his child made him feel tender, protective, and aroused.

“Dance with me,” he murmured when the speech ended in applause and the orchestra in the small ballroom nearby struck the first notes of a waltz. “I must have you in my arms.”

The evening felt like pure happiness as they danced, laughed, and enjoyed one another’s company. Hugh bore in mind Catherine’s warning that his feelings were written all over his face without the mask, but he concluded that he did not mind showing his affection for his wife to all and sundry. The feelings he had for her seemed pure, natural, and only right.

“Before I met you, I would have hated an evening like this,” he told her as they waltzed. “I would have felt nothing but contempt for anyone who stared at me, irritation at their conversation, and longing only to leave and be alone again.”

“I would have hated it as much as you,” Catherine confessed. “I would have hated how lustfully some men looked at me, the way women gossiped about my being a spinster, and the way my father seemed always to think only of marrying us off.”

“We were clearly made for one another,” Hugh jested.

“Although aren’t you still longing to leave even now?” she teased. “I thought you said something like that earlier. We don’t have to stay here the whole night, you know. It’s not our engagement party.”

“Ah, but perhaps I am delaying pleasure in order to heighten it, my Duchess, now that I know how much you enjoy being touched after extended anticipation. The more you want me, the more I enjoy you.”

Catherine rested her head on his shoulder with an aching, little sigh. “Oh, I want you already, Hugh Vaughan, and you know it.”

“I do,” he whispered in her ear, his blood pumping hard.

Their flirtation continued and intensified as they danced, ate, and drank. When they finally got into their carriage, Hugh had pulled Catherine astride him and thrust into her almost before the wheels were rolling, cursing as he divested them of their clothes.

By the time they reached Redbridge Hall, Catherine was soft, pliant, and smiling sleepily in his arms, her hair hanging down her shoulders in complete disarray, the pins scattered around the carriage for servants to find in the morning. Hugh almost had to carry her upstairs to his suite and did indeed lift her into his arms for the final stretch of the corridor.

“You’ve worn me out entirely, husband. All that dancing.” She sighed.

“And champagne,” he reminded her. “And the rest of the dancing…”

Hugh laid Catherine down on his bed and tucked her underneath the light summer covers before taking off his jacket and waistcoat. When she held out her arms to him, he joined her on the bed and wrapped himself around her, watching her eyes close on her contented face.

“I love you, Catherine,” he whispered, pressing one more kiss to her lips before they drifted off to sleep. “I love you so much.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Good morning sleepy-head.” Hugh grinned, his laughing face coming into focus beside her. “It’s almost ten o’clock, and I’ve already eaten.”

“Really?” Catherine questioned, coming fully awake and seeing that he was washed and dressed and that a tray with steaming tea and hot buttered toast lay on her bedside table along with a good portion of bacon, eggs, and mushrooms. “Oh, that smells good. Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?”

“You seemed so tired, and I liked watching you sleep,” he said, his expression reminding her of his final words last night, the ones that felt so dreamlike that she had been uncertain whether they had really been spoken. “Is there anything wrong with looking at the woman I love?”

Catherine sat up and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Hugh,” she breathed, tears welling up in her eyes.

“Should I not love you?” he asked, his expression part-joking, part-concerned. “Is it not something you want?”

“It’s only that I never imagined a man could love me, and certainly not that I could ever love them back this way,” she told him, quickly wiping her eyes. “I never knew how this could feel before.”

“You’re crying because you love me?” He smiled fully now.

Catherine nodded, meeting the kiss that followed with trembling limbs and a new wave of desire for her husband.

Hugh broke the kiss too soon. “I’m expected at Grandmother’s London residence and need to leave now, but when I come home tonight, I want to show you again exactly how it feels to love and be loved.”

“I’ll long for you all day.” Catherine pouted.

“Good,” he teased. “That will make my work so much easier tonight.”

With a final kiss, they drew apart, and Hugh went to the bedroom door. “I’ve taken the papers I want to show Grandmother but left the library door locked. I don’t want anyone but us in there while all that paperwork is out. It’s important that Uncle Edwin doesn’t get wind of what I’m doing.”

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