Page 22 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
I wonder how Isabella is doing? I hope she’s not too scared without me.
Thoughts of her sister only distracted her for a few minutes. Then Eric splashed some water, and she was back to wondering what he looked like at the moment with nothing but water glistening on his skin, his long legs flexing with strength as he bent them to try and fit his length in the tub. Silver was wrong. There was no way the two of them could fit in there. Not with Eric’s height.
Not unless she sat between his legs.
And that would be ridiculous. How would we bathe?
She squirmed a bit at the thought of leaning against his lean hard chest, his musk enveloping her, his strong arms bracketing her body.
She gasped, sitting up and throwing her pillow across the room.
Why am I thinking these things?
She quickly got out of bed and ran to pick up the pillow. That’s when she noticed the bottle of port from the table as well as two glasses and the plate of grapes, slices of cheese, and biscuits sitting beside it on the bedside table.
She rushed forward, pouring herself a full glass of port and then gulping it down before picking up a bunch of grapes, lifting it over her mouth, and biting off individual grapes one by one.
She closed her eyes enjoying the flavor. “Mm,” she murmured softly.
There was a groan from across the room, and she opened her mouth to see Eric leaning against the door, feet crossed at the ankles, and arms crossed, dressed in nothing but a banyan and staring at her with hungry eyes. “You have a talented tongue," he rasped.
Freya did not know what he meant by that, but she blushed anyway, sensing the sensuous theme underlined by his tone. She put down the grapes, drained her glass of wine, and slipped back into bed. She pointed to the Chesterfield. “Perhaps you can sleep there tonight.”
He looked at the three-seat couch disbelievingly. “I doubt that even my legs alone could fit on that piece of furniture. You will just have to resign yourself to sharing with me until your father is satisfied.”
“Did you forget your promise to me?” Freya narrowed her eyes at him.
He came forward, picking up the glass of port and filling both their glasses. “No, I did not. And I am an adult who is perfectly capable of controlling myself, so you need not worry. I shall not touch you.”
Freya did not know whether to be glad or disappointed.
He handed her a glass and held up his own. “A toast, to enjoying ourselves on this enforced holiday.”
She almost giggled in surprise but managed to swallow it down by taking a sip of her drink. “Cheers,” she said belatedly.
He sat down on the side of the bed, picked up a biscuit, and took a delicate bite. He sat, chewing as he considered her thoughtfully. “I am getting the impression that you still do not trust me at all. Why is that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know you.”
“Hmm, well I suppose this honeymoon is a chance to correct that.”
She ran her eyes down his naked chest. “You could begin by covering yourself up.”
He smirked, looking away as he took another bite of his biscuit. “Why is that, Lady Freya? Am I bothering you with my nudity?”
Freya blushed, sliding her eyes away from his body. “I didn’t say that. I merely meant that it would be the polite thing to do.”
He laughed ruefully. “And that is what we are, I suppose. Two strangers with nothing but politeness between us.”
She blinked at him, brow furrowed, trying to discern the emotion beneath his words. He almost sounded…displeased. “What would you rather we have?” she asked curiously.
“Well, how about some candidness for once? If you will admit to me that my nakedness bothers you, I will put on a sleep shirt.”
Her eyes widened, and her breath stopped as she stared at him in surprise. She had not been expecting anything like that. “An-and if I don’t?”
He shrugged with studied nonchalance. “Well then, there will be no need for me to wear a shirt, will there?”
Freya struggled for a bit, wondering if she should say the words as he sipped his port and ate his biscuit. She watched from beneath her lashes as he finished and then walked to the other side of the bed before climbing in. She tensed, waiting for his touch, but it never came.
