Page 7 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
His eyes widened. And, as sudden as a bolt of lightning, a crack of laughter broke free from him. Delight lit up those grey eyes, turning them a sparkling silver. ‘Race you back.’
Her heart somersaulted in her chest at the sight of the tempting curve to his lips. She remembered the feel of kissing those lips. Then they had wed and he’d thrown up his barricade. For some mad reason she had the urge to kiss him again. Right now. Very shocking. While it certainly wouldn’t do for a married couple to be showing any signs of affection in public, she was absolutely ready to take up his challenge of a race. ‘Why not?’ She turned Bella around.
‘Go!’ she said. Bella responded without hesitation. She let the little mare have her head, aware all the time of the thunder of the larger horse behind them, catching up, and then they were neck and neck.
Julia risked a glance at her husband. There was grim determination on his face, but also a smile of pure pleasure she had only seen once before, in a small candlelit room in the brothel.
As if he sensed her gaze, he looked over, grinned and pulled ahead, the long-legged gelding stretching into a gallop, only to slow a few moments later.
She came up beside him. ‘Thank you.’
He raised a brow in question.
‘For not pretending and letting me win. It wouldn’t have been fair to Thor.’
Indeed, Thor was pawing and prancing, so very proud of himself. Alistair grinned at her. ‘I haven’t raced like that since—’ he shook his head ‘—I can’t remember when.’
‘Nor me.’
He glanced around them. ‘We should—’ A frown crashed down. ‘Damn.’
She followed the direction of his gaze to where two gentlemen were riding swiftly towards them.
‘Someone you know?’ she asked, holding Bella steady.
‘Perhaps.’
A calm, coldly spoken word. The wall was back up. Likely he was annoyed that people had witnessed their display of high spirits. Not that they had done anything too outrageous. Or perhaps it was the thought of introducing his wife to his friends.
Chilly fingers crawled down her spine. Might they have been at the brothel when she had shamelessly allowed herself to be auctioned?
She lifted her chin and pinned a teasing smile to her lips. ‘Shall we gallopvente à terrein the other direction?’
Once more a corner of his mouth twitched with the hint of a smile. ‘Now that really would be rude.’
Hope bubbled in her veins. Was the distance between them closing, this barrier meant for others and not for her? ‘Do we care? Being of the ducal sort?’
His eyes flashed amusement. ‘Behave, madam.’
Thrills chased through her stomach. He’d used that deep seductive growl the night they’d made love. Her insides softened, liquefied. Longing filled her. For him. For his touch. For the way he had made her feel. ‘I will behave if you will,’ she quipped. He had intended to arouse, she was sure of it. The man did nothing without purpose.
Yet as the men drew close, his expression cooled.
‘Duke,’ spoke a handsome fellow on a big grey who looked familiar.
‘Beauworth,’ her husband replied, helping Julia to make the connection. ‘You know my wife.’
Beauworth bowed, which was difficult to do with any elegance when astride a horse, although he made it look easy. ‘Good day, Your Grace.’
Julia inclined her head and smiled. ‘How do you do. We met at our ball.’
‘Kind of you to remember,’ the Marquess said.
Alistair had been icily cold that evening. She’d been terrified of doing something to put him to shame and had memorised the name of each person she’d met.
The younger man, clearly leaning towards dandyism with fair hair and plump apple cheeks, doffed his high-crowned hat. This was a man she had not met before, she was sure, yet he regarded her with a puzzled frown.
‘My cousin, Your Grace,’ the Duke said, his voice full ofennui. ‘Percy Hepple. He was not at our ball.’
