Page 95 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“S-Sir?” a stable boy stammered after getting a look at his face.
“I’m taking Trident out,” Vaughan said.
While Vaughan went to the door of Trident’s stall, the boy brought his saddle over. Vaughan opened the stall, entered, and rubbed the horse’s neck, already feeling his blood pressure drop. He saddled Trident, walked him outside, mounted, and turned to face the boy, who was hovering in the doorway.
“I won’t be long,” he called.
Much as he needed the escape of riding, staying out when the weather was turning would be a fool’s move.
He broke into a trot, then a canter. The wind whipped at his clothes as he urged Trident faster. The horse’s strides grew longer, and together they streaked down the road and across a field.
Vaughan could hear nothing but the wind and hooves and see nothing but his land sprawling in every direction. His fingers were numb with cold, but he barely noticed, focusing instead on the rolling gait beneath him.
His breathing calmed as the familiar actions soothed him. Eventually, he slowed, and when he did, he spotted something nearby.
The folly.
Goddamn. Even now, he couldn’t outrun thoughts or memories of his wife.
He turned and guided Trident home.
Hours later, after a subdued dinner during which no one spoke except to exchange banalities, Vaughan stood in front of the door between his chamber and Emma’s.
He knew he shouldn’t disturb her. He’d be leaving as soon as the Mayhews did, and it wasn’t fair to Emma for him to send her confusing messages.
Yet he couldn’t help himself. He knocked on the door and turned the handle. Vaughan entered Emma’s room, his gaze immediately drawn to where she sat near the foot of the bed as her maid brushed her hair so that it shone like gold and fell around her shoulders in silken strands.
His breath caught. God, she was stunning. How had he gotten so fortunate as to have this beautiful creature as his wife?
She wasn’t looking at him, but she must have heard his arrival, because she said, “Daisy, you may leave.”
Daisy shot a curious glance at Vaughan, then handed Emma the hairbrush, curtsied, and hurried out, closing the hall door behind herself.
Emma held the brush up. “Would you care to do the honors, Your Grace?”
Vaughan’s legs carried him to her of their own accord. He took the brush and stood behind her. Gently, he ran the brush from the top of her head and down the glossy length of her hair to the ends. He’d never brushed a woman’s hair before, and he moved carefully, afraid he might snag it and hurt her.
After a few strokes, he became more comfortable with the motions, and the tension drained from his shoulders. He allowed himself to enjoy the whisper-soft caress of her hair against his skin. She hummed in contentment, and the sound went straight to his cock.
He cleared his throat. “You have lovely hair.”
“Thank you.”
He could not see her face, but she sounded pleased.
“I worry I do not tell you enough how beautiful you are,” he said. “You captivate me.”
She let out a sigh, but it was not an unhappy one.
“I cannot offer you love,” he said, continuing the rhythmic movements. “I’m afraid that hasn’t changed. But I can offer you pleasure until I depart.”
He waited anxiously for her response. She seemed to have enjoyed his attentions previously, but he hadn’t come to her in far too long, and given their conversation earlier today, he feared she would not welcome him.
Finally, she said, “If that is all that you can offer me tonight, then I accept it.”
He closed his eyes, relieved beyond reason. “Thank you.”
“I think my hair has been brushed enough now.”
