Page 52 of Harpy of the Ton
“Oh!” She let out a shriek, and he fought the urge to laugh.
“Does my wife recall her marital duties?”
Her lower lip wobbled. “A-am I expected to…” She gestured toward the bed, and a tear splashed onto her cheek.
You’re a cad, Lawrence Frederick Baxter—an utter cad.
Bloody hell—it wasn’t often that his conscience referred to him by his full name.
But there was a point beyond which even he wouldn’t travel. As his wife, she’d be his for the taking, and the world would approve of the taking. But she wasn’t his wife.
“This is a comfortable room, Bella,” he said. “The best in the house.”
“That’s not much to boast about, given the state of the rest of this hovel,” she scoffed. “Best in the house indeed! That’s likecomparing horse dung to dog excrement—only marginally less repugnant.”
Bloody harpy!Just because he hadn’t been born into luxury, didn’t give her the right to sneer at him.
“It’s only filthy, love, because you’ve not cleaned it,” he said. “You wandered off before we moved here.”
“W-wandered off?”
“We thought you’d abandoned us.”
She glanced around the bedchamber again, settling her gaze on each item as if trying to force her memory to return.
“Is that how I ended up in that river?” she asked. “They said I’d fallen in—th-that I might not have survived. But I can’t recall it.”
Another tear fell.
Harpy she may be, but she had been through an ordeal she’d been lucky to survive.
He took her arm, and she stiffened as he pulled her into an embrace.
“It’s all right, love.”
She remained stiff and unyielding in his arms.
Perhaps he should say something comforting. Wives were supposed to love fancy speeches.
“Youdidsurvive, Bella,” he said, “and we’re all glad of it.”
She let out a sigh, then yielded, almost as if, having been hardened to a lack of consideration, she was unable to withstand a few words of kindness.
Almost as if she’d never heard a truly kind word in her life.
Don’t be getting soft.
But the voice inside his mind could go to the devil when there was a female body in his arms.
Soft and slight, yet round in all the right places—a delectable arse he longed to run his hands over, and those lovely teats pressed against his chest.
His cock hardened, but if she felt it, she gave no sign. Her chest rose and fell in a sigh, and she shifted position, her thighs moving against swollen member.
Sweet heaven—he was on the brink of spending!
Then she lifted her face and parted her lips—an instinctive offering. What lush pink lips—his for the taking. Then he lifted his gaze to her eyes, and the vulnerability in their expression broke his heart and doused his lust.
What the fuck am I doing?
