Page 105 of The Scottish Duke
What had she done to him?
She had ruined him for any other woman, that was certain. Any idea of ever being unfaithful to Lorna was not only distasteful but would be stupid in the extreme.
He had his psyche, his siren, the woman who affected him as no other woman could right here in his bed. His wife. His surprising, delightful, fascinating wife.
His laughter woke his son.
She awoke with a kiss and the soft brush of a fingertip along her cheek.
Her eyelids fluttered open, then closed at the sight of Alex’s smile. For a brief second she allowed herself the luxury of thinking there was something in his eyes other than humor.
“Robbie’s hungry.”
“Umm,” she said. “He’s always hungry.”
“Will he always be up every few hours?” he asked.
“I’m surprised he didn’t wake earlier.”
Sleep beckoned, but she dragged herself upright, eyes still closed.
“He’s a duke’s son,” she added. “Very autocratic and demanding.”
She slit open one eye then the next, her head back against the headboard. Robbie was beginning to cry in earnest now, but before she could swing her legs over the side of the bed, Alex was at the cradle.
“Come here, little man,” he said, scooping the baby up in his arms.
Alex must have opened the curtains earlier because sunlight streamed into the room, a ray of light catching him in its beam. He stood there, attired in his robe, arms cradling their son, emotion softening his face.
“Let’s go find your mother, shall we?”
He turned and stopped, glancing at her.
Time stilled, the space emptying between them. She sat there, her eyes filled with tears. He stood there, arrested by something he saw. The seconds ticked by filled with unspoken emotion.
She loved him. She’d been attracted to him from the first moment she’d seen him. She’d felt lust and desire and passion in his arms. He’d annoyed her and made her angry. He’d hurt her but also stirred her, impressed her, and summoned her admiration.
Somehow, in the weeks and months that had passed, despite everything, she’d fallen in love with him.
Slowly, he began to walk to her. She unbuttoned her nightgown. He gently placed Robbie in her arms but he didn’t move away. Instead, he stood there, only inches from her, so close she could see each individual bristle of his morning beard, the rapid pulse beat at his throat, and hear his accelerated breathing.
She put her child to her breast and he watched.
She shouldn’t be feeling this, not now. How could she be catapulted into desire so easily?
Could she hint for a kiss? She closed her eyes, trying to ignore him, only to open her eyes wide when she felt the touch of his fingertip on the slope of her breast.
She glanced at him, but his gaze was fixed on her nipple, on the sight of Robbie eagerly suckling.
“I never thought that the sight of a mother nursing her child would be so beautiful,” he said. “Thank you for that.”
He so easily stripped words from her. She didn’t know what to say to that comment. But, then, she’d often sought refuge in her drawings when language failed her. Perhaps she needed to draw him as he appeared now, blue eyes intent, his face molded by concentration, his lips curved into a half smile.
“Nor did I ever know it could be so arousing.”
She couldn’t look away. Trapped by his gaze, she let him see everything she was feeling: confusion, wonder, desire, and love.
“I most definitely don’t want you moving to another room,” he said. “Stay here with me.”
