Page 42 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Chapter Thirteen

Lord, but thisman was a feast for the eyes.

Laurel had cut through their adjoining dressing rooms, wanting to speak to her husband before breakfast. Having spent enough mornings in Jeremy’s breakfast room, she knew there would be footmen stationed about to wait on them. If Linfield wanted to argue about her request, she wanted to do so in private. She owed him that much. It wouldn’t do for her to undercut him. She certainly didn’t want the servants discussing the tension between the newlyweds. He was as new to Linwood as she was and for some reason, she didn’t want him making a bad impression. He hadn’t seemed to know any of the servants when they’d arrived yesterday, so their early perceptions of him would be lasting ones.

The only man he’d recognized had been Ross Woodward, the estate’s manager. Mr. Woodward’s remarks about the duke when he was a boy had brought about tension and her husband had shut down the man’s comments. She still knew there was some mystery that needed to be solved. If she could learn what had happened to eight-year-old Anthony Godwin, she might better understand the Duke of Linfield, the man he had become. Perhaps Mr. Woodward would be willing to share what he knew of the long-ago incident which had turned her husband into a stiff, unemotional man. She should have thought to ask him when she claimed the ledgers for the previous years this morning.

Looking at his bare chest, glistening with water, made her think of their coupling last night. Linfield wasn’t unemotional when it came to her. Though he would never have admitted it, Laurel believed he had feelings for her. At least she hoped he did. She wanted to be on good terms with this man. He would be the father of her children and she wanted their household to be peaceful and loving. If they could be friendly and behave respectfully toward one another, it would be a good environment in which to raise their children.

She feared, though, that he would withdraw from her, only coming to her when he wanted her physically. Already, he was fast becoming something she needed, like the very air she breathed. She swore she would never let him see how taken she was with him. If she revealed how drugging his kiss was, he would use it to his advantage.

Laurel needed to remember she was a St. Clair. Though she hadn’t held the name long, she understood it was a part of her blood. She’d learned St. Clairs could be headstrong and passionate. Stubborn and bold. She would need to stand firm against this man and never let her true feelings show. She already liked him a great deal. It wouldn’t do to move beyond that. She would have to keep her wits about her whenever he was near.

Especially in her bed.

Suddenly, he plunged beneath the water and then emerged, pushing his hair back. Her mouth watered. She wanted to lick every drop from his chest. The thought enticed her—and appalled her.

Before he could open his eyes and find her drooling over him, she said, “I would like to see the estate today.”

Suddenly, those crystal blue eyes pierced her. Laurel stood her ground, her nails digging into her palms as she kept a bland look on her face.

“Why?”

“Why do I want to see the estate?”

“Yes.”

“Because it is my new home. I am curious about it.”

“This house is also your new home. Surely, you’d like to tour it with Mrs. Wallingford.”

“I plan to do that, as well. In fact, I was hoping you would do so with me. See both the house and then ride about the estate.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “I know it’s been many years since you were here. You couldn’t remember everything about the house. It’s your home, too, Anthony. Shall we see it together?”

She watched as he pondered the question and then he nodded. “All right. We’ll have Mrs. Wallingford take us about after breakfast.”

“And what about seeing Linwood?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I would prefer to meet with Woodward and discuss various details regarding the estate. Once I’m more knowledgeable, I will know what to look for when I’m out and about.”

Figuring he would turn down her request, she asked, “Might I sit in when you have this discussion with Mr. Woodward?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Laurel thought he merely mollified her but at least he hadn’t totally rejected the idea.

Without warning, he rose from the tub. Water streamed down his toned body. He looked like a Greek statue brought to life, his proportions perfect. Yet he was a living, breathing man.

She heard him chuckling as she dashed from the room and returned to her bedchamber. Laurel paused before the mirror and saw the color in her cheeks. He’d stood deliberately, wanting to embarrass her. Seeing him in all his golden perfection hadn’t embarrassed her. It had only made her want him even more—and that’s why embarrassment reddened her face.

Leaving her rooms, she made her way downstairs and asked for a cup of tea. Sanders, the butler, asked what she wished for breakfast and she placed her order. By the time her plate arrived and she’d begun eating, her husband entered the room, immaculately dressed. It was sinful the way he filled out his buckskin breeches and bottle green coat. His hair, still damp, looked darker than usual. She fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

He told Sanders what he wished to eat and had a cup of coffee brought to him.

Glancing at her cup, he asked, “You prefer tea to coffee?”

“I do. While the smell of freshly-brewed coffee is heavenly, the taste leaves much to be desired.”

“The women I know douse it heavily with cream and sugar.”

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