Page 70 of Devoted to the Duke (The St. Clairs 1)

“Here’s Her Grace’s trunk,” a voice called from the open doorway and Strong came in, setting it on the floor. He glanced at the couple and then left without another word.

“Shall I have a maid come and unpack for you?” Jeremy asked.

“No,” Catherine said listlessly. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.” Finally, her gaze met his. “I will see you in the morning.”

Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingers. “Goodnight.”

He withdrew from the room and went to his own. As he undressed, he couldn’t fathom what he’d done to make her behave in such an odd fashion. He tossed his clothes on a nearby chair and shrugged into a dressing gown. Pouring himself a drink, he sipped as he contemplated what had occurred during the day. The wedding had gone off without a problem. The guests enjoyed the breakfast. Even Statham, whom Catherine had an odd relationship with, acted graciously.

Then it hit him. She must be terrified about coupling with him. She had no mother to tell her what was to come. Nerves had probably overtaken her.

Worse, her husband hadn’t yet told her that he loved her. He already knew Catherine loved him. She couldn’t easily hide her feelings. With ever look, every kiss, every touch, she told him how she felt about him. Yet she, too, had not uttered the words.

He was a fool. She was waiting on him to make his feelings known. She was worried. Fearful. And he hadn’t comforted her, much less told her of his love for her. That could be easily remedied. He would march in and convince her how much he loved her—and then make love to her all night. Going to his chest, he opened it and optimistically withdrew three French letters, placing them in the pocket of his dressing gown.

Jeremy went to the connecting door, relieved that he’d figured out what ailed his bride. He turned the handle and pushed but the door didn’t budge.

Catherine had locked him out.

*

Catherine spent asleepless night. She tossed and turned, wishing she’d come out and told Jeremy she could never be a true wife to him. When the time came, though, she’d lost her courage.

She knew he’d tried to come to her last night because she’d heard the doorknob turn in the silence. Putting the bolt into place had been a last minute thought and she was glad she’d done so. She rose and went to the door now and turned the lock. She would dress and then visit him. As she stepped away, the door flew open immediately.

Jeremy stood before her in a dressing gown of deep burgundy. Dark stubble covered his face, making him look rough and dangerous. His bloodshot eyes told of his lack of sleep. He stormed into the room and latched on to her upper arms. His mouth came down on hers and he kissed her hungrily. She reached to shove him away and her fingers touched hot, smooth flesh. He crushed her to him.

There was no escape.

She tried not to respond. Tried not to feel the burning need for him within her.

And failed miserably.

Catherine began kissing him back, thinking she would only do that. One last time to enjoy his kisses. His taste. One more time to remember his touch.

Before she knew it, they were on the bed. He tore the front of her nightgown, baring her breasts. He kneaded them, his thumbnail raking across the raised nipple. She cried out at the delicious sensation. His mouth fastened on one breast, his tongue teasing its nipple. She began writhing under him as he awakened something new within her.

He moved to her other breast even as his hand slid down the curve of her hip. Hovering over her, his hand swept across her stomach and downward. One finger eased inside her and she cried out his name in shock. He lifted his head and moved to her mouth, his tongue plunging deep inside, even as his finger did the same below. He stroked her and something built within her, something dark and deep and wonderful.

A second finger joined the first and Catherine moaned in pleasure. Then a tide swept across her so quickly, she didn’t have time to catch her breath. Wave after wave of pleasure exploded from her, taking her to the heavens above.

Gradually, her tremors calmed. Jeremy slipped his hand from her and broke the kiss. Despondency filled her. They’d made love. She was trapped—and would ruin him.

“I made a horrible mistake, my love.” His green eyes gleamed at her. “I didn’t tell you I loved you. I should have. I promise I will, every day of our lives. In the morning when we awaken. While we dress. When we eat. When we make love. When your eyes grow weary and sleep is at your doorstep.”

His gaze grew tender. “I love you, Catherine St. Clair. I think I did from that very first night. I pined for you all those years in-between. I cannot believe that we are together now. That we’re finally man and wife. I’m sorry I never said the words but they’ve always been in my heart. I know you’ve wanted to hear them.” He grinned. “You’ll probably grow tired of hearing them so much but I’ll say them all the same.”

Jeremy reached and withdrew something from his dressing gown that he’d tossed onto the bed. Catherine could barely move, much less think.

He loved her. She’d always known it in her heart. She longed to tell him the same but couldn’t. And she’d made a mess of things now that they’d consummated their marriage.

He opened something and begin sheathing his manhood.

“What is that?”

“It’s a French letter.” He rolled it over the entire length and then placed his hands on either side of her head. “It will keep us from making a baby.”

“You mean... what we did before...”

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