Page 31 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

“Beguiling,” Grace repeated, letting the word roll around her mind.

“Well, I am quite relieved to hear that, Your Grace,” she continued. “So, what is it?”

“What is what?” Nathaniel asked. Though by his expression, Grace already knew that he understood her.

“What is the reason you refuse to be with me as a husband is meant to be with a wife?” she clarified.

A pensive look came over Nathaniel’s face, and she thought for a moment that he was going to finally tell her why. But then, once more, a smooth mask came over his expression, and he shrugged.

“I know not what you are referring to,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Grace’s eyebrows perked up in inquiry, and she took the final step that closed the space between them.

“Very well then, husband,” she replied peaceably. “Then please, kiss me.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nathaniel wasn’t sure if it was the granting of permission or the look of passion in Grace’s eyes, but as she said the words, “kiss me,” he felt the physical need he’d been trying so desperately to fight off surge through him. Overcome by his arousal, Nathaniel slipped his gloved hand up to Grace’s cheek and dipped his head so that his lips could press against hers.

It was their third kiss, and just like the others, pleasure spread through him immediately. Wanting more, he slid his other arm around Grace’s waist and pulled her to him tightly. He wanted to feel as much of her as he could before his symptoms started, and he was forced to push her away again.

But as her arms wrapped around his neck, and he felt her bosom press against his chest as their kiss deepened, the symptoms never came. There was no numbness, no loss of control. Just pleasure.

A small moan left Grace’s lips, parting them wider for him. Without any leading, his tongue slipped from his own mouth, and he slid the sensitive muscle over Grace’s lips and tongue. He groaned at the taste of her, and they both relaxed even more into the embrace. As they did so, Grace’s hands slipped from his neck, and she pressed her hand against his shirt. His muscles rippled deliciously at her touch as if his entire body craved the feeling.

Suddenly, though, Grace broke the kiss, and his body rebelled against the separation. She pulled away, her hand quickly going to her cheek as the flesh turned a touch pink. Her eyes, he saw, were still full of passion, but there was something else there too.

“What is it?” he asked, feeling confused. “Was it not enjoyable?’

A soft, tense laugh left Grace’s lips as her blush grew deeper, and she shook her head.

“No, it was wonderful,” she assured him, “I would like very much for it to continue.”

Nathaniel felt a wave of relief as he reached for her again.

“Well, then, let us,” he urged, feeling his need coursing through him with ardor.

“It is your beard, Your Grace,” Grace explained with a small smile. “It pricks at my cheeks so violently.”

Embarrassment coursed through him as Nathaniel brought his hand up to his beard and felt the sharp prick of his stubble even through his gloves.

“Apologies, wife,” he murmured, taking a step back. “I have been lax in my grooming habits. I shall take care of it right away.”

Nathaniel went to move toward the door, but he felt both of Grace’s hands wrap around his wrist and hold him steady.

“That is not what I meant, Nathaniel,” she urged softly, pulling him back to her.

“But you just said I needed a shave,” Nathaniel countered gruffly. He was trying so hard, and he’d finally been able to give in, and now, he was being rejected for his beard, of all things.

“You do, Your Grace,” Grace agreed. “But please stay. I used to help my Papa shave all of the time. I am quite good at it, you see. Never nicked him once. Please, allow me to do this for you.”

Nathaniel looked at her oddly. He’d heard that women could make strange requests of their husbands, but this was entirely out of his scope of imagination. What pleasure could she possibly derive from such a task? Before he could say no, Grace urged him to wait and scurried quickly to her dressing room. She came back a short time later, carrying a long, white box.

“Do you remember when you told me to take advantage of the tab you started for me at Madame Rosé’s?” she asked, setting the box on her desk.

Nathaniel nodded, wondering what she was getting at.

“Well, I decided to do so,” she continued, lifting the lid. “I ordered some undergarments, a few new nightgowns—and these.”

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