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Her breath stuttered. “I… I…”

“Yes?”

“Dominic…”

His name on her lips undid him.

He kissed her.

It was fierce, searching, but controlled. When she didn’t resist, his hands moved. One braced against the wall above her, the other settling at her waist.

She rose on her tiptoes, meeting him with a hunger of her own. Fire roared between them, but not chaos—something sharp, focused.

His mouth traced the line of her jaw, lower, to the delicate curve of her neck. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his waistcoat, grounding herself. A gasp slipped past her lips.

Then—

“Ahem. Your Graces?” came a voice from down the hall, sheepish and urgent.

Dominic froze. Marianne blinked, dazed, then turned her head just slightly.

One of the junior footmen stood ten paces away, wringing his hands. “P-Pardon me, Your Graces. B-Beowulf is chasing Serafina again.”

Neither of them spoke for a long beat. Then, Dominic stepped back and straightened his coat with impeccable care.

Marianne pulled away immediately. The spell was again broken, and it had Dominic pulling his hair in frustration. Meanwhile, his dear wife was quick to leave him, half running to separate the animals.

At this point, all the animals loved her. Of course, they’d obey, but they also had to take his wife from him.

Again.

He wondered if Marianne would ever be his wife beyond just in name.

After Marianne had managed to separate Beowulf and Serafina, she went back to dinner and then hastily said goodnight to her sisters.

In her room, she could still feel the heat of Dominic’s kisses. They were more urgent than the first one they’d shared, and there was something within her that had enjoyed it thoroughly.

Her lips still felt swollen from his kisses, and she could still feel his warm, hard body pressed against hers. When he backed her up against the wall, she was not afraid of him. Instead, she was afraid of herself—how she wanted it so badly. How she wanted to give in to him.

In bed, she tossed and turned. She could not sleep. She pressed her thighs together, remembering how his kisses and caresses made her feel hot and bothered. Wet. Her nipples had been hard points.

She wondered if he knew. Of course, he knew. He was older and more experienced, and he must have smelled her arousal.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door.

Could it be Dominic?

Dominic. That was his name.

She’d known that for some time, but earlier that night, she’d whispered it to him, and he…

He’d kissed her. And she’d wanted more.

She bolted out of her bed, shivering with anticipation. Her skin felt warm to the touch even though the night was chilly.

What would she do if she opened the door and saw him outside, waiting?

Waiting for what?