Page 32 of A Virgin for the Beastly Duke

“The jam, please,” she said, still touching him, her large eyes holding his stare. He could not believe her sheer charm this morning. She was a lodestone, and he was the piece of steel at her command.

With his unoccupied hand, he picked up the bowl of strawberry jam and handed it to her. If she asked him to spread it on her toast and feed it to her, he would without a second’s hesitation.

“Lud!” breathed Belinda, giving them a suggestive look before opening her fan and languidly cooling herself.

When he turned to regard his wife, he found her cheeks a delightful shade of pink, and he allowed his eye to caress her slowly until he reached her low neckline. Then he began to mentally undress her, recalling how she had felt in his arms, and imagining what she would look like naked.

“I…believe Mrs. Piper wants me,” Belinda said, picking up her sweet chocolate and leaving the room in a flurry of pink muslin.

“Poor Belinda!” Bridget clucked her tongue, an impish look in her eyes. “Harry, what did you do?”

He raised a brow. “What didIdo?” They were alone in the room now, and he was greatly tempted to touch her.

“Well, I cannot imagine what else would cause her to leave us suddenly.” She bit into her toast, licking her lips. Harry suppressed a groan.

“Would you like me to show you parts of the castle you have never been to?” he asked abruptly, seeking a distraction.

“Why, yes!” Her eyes sparkled. “I have been wanting to see the towers and the secret passages for a while.”

His mouth curved. “Secret passages?”

“I was told about them. Belinda only showed me the thirty unoccupied rooms during our tour.”

“Oh, I shall most certainly show you the passages.” He smiled, his imagination whirring.

Chapter 15

Bridget was confident she was doing everything right this morning, and Harry’s invitation to show her the rest of the castle was all the confirmation she needed. She did not eat as much as she usually did, for the flutter in her stomach prevented her from doing so. He had set every inch of her ablaze without touching her, and she was eager to see what would happen in the secret passages.

With the last drop of tea down her throat, she looked up to find his intense blue eye watching her.

“Shall we?” he asked, rising and holding his hand out to her. As she placed her fingers on his palm, he slowly drew her to her feet. Bridget was certain she was as red as a beet, for she could barely breathe under his gaze.

He led her out of the morning room and turned in the direction of an archway.

“When was this castle built?” she asked, looking up at the Grecian-style ceiling.

“According to my ancestors, it has been in existence since the time of the Tudors. I believe my lineage extends beyond the Tudors.” He steered her to the left and down a long and narrow hallway. “This leads to one of the towers.”

“Which of your ancestors built it?”

“Oh, they did not build it.” The corner of his mouth tilted up, and his eye took on an amused glint. “It was given to William Westwood in the fifteenth century when he received the title of Marquess of Dolphridge. His grandson, Albert Westwood became the first Duke of Alderham as a reward for his great service to the Crown. The second and third dukes lived off Albert’s glory. I am the fourth duke.”

There was pride in Harry’s voice when he mentioned the first duke but it faded as he spoke of the rest, and he looked especially displeased when he came to his father.

The hallway darkened the deeper they walked, and a small shiver of apprehension ran through her. It was as though the castle was alive and darkened with Harry’s mood. He must have perceived her reaction because he looked down at her and smiled faintly.

They arrived at another archway beyond which were stone stairs that spiraled up. “It is quite a way up,” Harry observed along with her.

She gave him a sidelong glance. “Will you race me?”

His eye briefly widened then he gave a nod. “I will count to three.” They each set a foot on the first step, and she gathered her skirts in her hands, her heart already beating faster. “One,” he began, and her body tensed in preparation. “Two.” She filled her lungs with air. “Three.” She began to run.

Bridget understood that she could in no way match her husband’s strength and stamina but she wanted to challenge herself today, and she loved every minute she spent in his company. A lilt filled the stairways and she was pleased to discover it to be her laugh as Harry rushed past her, disappearing around the curve.

She had lost their little game but she was thrilled. As she neared the top of the tower, her body protesting the strain she had subjected it to, a pair of powerful arms caught her, twirling her until her chest was pressed to Harry’s.

“I won,” he said calmly while she panted.Had they not run up the same set of stairs?His strength was even more remarkable than she thought, and she could not tell him that because she could barely breathe.

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