Page 59 of Married to a Wicked Duke
Sarah set the brush on the nightstand. “Is there anything else you need, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you, Sarah. I shall see you in the morning.”
Her lady’s maid bobbed a curtsey and disappeared from the room, closing the door behind her.
Exhausted as Veronica was, her thoughts were racing, and she knew sleep was still far away. She took her shawl from the back of the chair and carried it to the window seat, collecting a book from her desk on the way past. She sat cross-legged on the window seat, but instead of opening the book, she pulled back the curtain to peer out into the dark garden. In spite of herself, she found herself thinking of Frederick. She knew all too well that he was rarely one to leave the house. Indeed, in the three and a half weeks of their marriage, he had never once suggested an outing beyond those were expected of them as part of their charity work. No evenings at the theater or dinners at restaurants, or even walks in the park.
Where has he disappeared to tonight?Was the thought of spending the evening with her truly so unbearable he would rather draw out a meeting with his accountant for as long as humanly possible?
There was a faint knock at the door. Veronica tugged her shawl around her shoulders, surprised at how quickly the cook had managed to rustle together a cup of mint tea. Perhaps she had just boiled the water for the Dowager Duchess.
“Come in,” she called.
The door clicked open and Veronica got hurriedly to her feet. Standing in the doorway, was not a maid with a teacup in her hands, but the Duke.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Veronica made her way toward him slowly toward her husband, half convinced he might flee if she approached him too suddenly. “Frederick?” It felt like something of a miracle that he had shown himself tonight. And even more of a miracle that he had chosen to do so in her bedchamber.
Without speaking, he closed the space between them and pulled her into a deep kiss. At once, Veronica’s body came alive, and she found herself pressing her body against his, digging her fingers into the wide bulk of his arms.
“Where have you been?” she asked breathlessly.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I came home to see you.”
“You did?”
A smile flickered on his lips. “Is that not obvious?” He kissed her again, his tongue dueling hungrily with hers, before trailing his lips down her bare neck. “I am sorry I was not here for dinner. That was rude of me.”
Veronica met his lustful gaze. “I thought you were avoiding me.”
Something flickered across his eyes that told Veronica her guess was correct. But while he may have been avoiding her this evening, the urgency with which he yanked the shawl from her shoulders and tossed it onto the bed left her in no doubt as to how much he wanted her now. He tugged at the ribbon that held her nightgown closed. The neckline fell open, exposing the creamy swell of her breasts.
Frederick slipped a hand inside, skimming his hand over her warm skin. As he flicked his thumb against her nipple, Veronica murmured against his lips. Desire shot through her body, gathering between her legs.
Frederick took a step back. “I want to see you,” he said, his eyes raking over the soft curves of her hips. “All of you.”
Veronica’s heart began to thunder. For all her husband had seen of her; for all he had done to her, he was yet to see her body in its entirety. And the thought of standing them before him, with not a scrap of clothing to cover her, made her suddenly overwhelmed with nerves.
“You first,” she heard herself say, her voice coming out softer than she had intended.
A curious smile lit up Frederick’s face, as though he was trying to determine if she was being bold and forthright, or impossibly shy. “As you wish,” he said huskily.
He slipped his jacket from his broad shoulders and let it fall to the floor, then tugged off his cravat in one swift movement. His eyes not leaving Veronica’s, he slowly began to undo the row of buttons on his embroidered waistcoat. Soon, it followed his jacket to the floor.
Frederick stepped out of his boots, then pulled his shirt over his head, taking a step closer to Veronica. She felt her eyes drawn to the smooth plane of his chest; to the sparse curls of hair that snaked down over his stomach. Her fingers itched to touch them, but she held herself back, instead clenching fistfuls of her nightgown and she kept her hands by her side.
Frederick’s hand paused at the button of his breeches. Already, his arousal was straining against the fabric, and the sight of it sent a thrill through Veronica’s body. The ache between her legs began to intensify. She heard her breathing grow louder and more rapid.
Slowly, Frederick unbuttoned his breeches and stepped out of them. He stood naked before Veronica, his body shadowed and bronze in the lamplight.
Veronica swallowed heavily. Her husband was impossibly beautiful, she realized. Some part of her had known that already, of course, but as he stood here before her, with every inch of his skin on display, she ached for him with every inch of her being. She reached a hand out towards his chest, suddenly desperate to touch him, but he caught her fingers in his own.
“Your turn,” he said, his voice low.
Veronica could feel her chest heaving. Could hear her breath coming loud and fast. She felt a faint tremor go through her body as she gripped the hem of her nightgown. She paused there for a moment, trying to gather her courage. Catching the look of blatant lust in Frederick’s eyes, she slipped the nightgown up over her head and let it fall to the floor beside the pile of his clothes.
For a moment, her husband stood motionless, as though drinking her in. “Veronica,” he whispered. “You are beautiful. So beautiful.” He took a step toward her; tentative, as though there was a part of him that was afraid she was not real. He reached for her and traced his fingers down her cheek, then continued down over her shoulder. Achingly slowly, he traced the narrow path between her breasts, before circling her nipples and drawing a low moan from Veronica’s throat.
