Page 15 of Duke with a Deception
He had not thought she would recover her memories so soon, if ever. The realization had kept him in his study long after their dinner had concluded, preventing him from going to her. From seducing her and introducing her to pleasure as he had planned. Instead, he had waited until he had been certain she was asleep, indulging in a recent concoction of his, a blend of absinthe and scotch. As a result, he was filled with a pleasant lassitude as he ascended the stairs in search of his room.
Having a conscience was new for him. He wasn’t sure he liked it.
But conscience or no, he had already married Verity, and it was too late to change his mind and find some hidden shred of honor. She was his wife now. There was no going back. No undoing the knot that had been so thoroughly tied today. He felt a deep and abiding sense of comfort at that as he breezed through the door to his room. He didn’t want to think of why at the moment.
Perhaps not ever.
But his comfort died as he closed the door and his gaze traveled across the room, illuminated by the lowered gas lamps. Because there was a distinctly shaped mound beneath the counterpane across the room.
Verity was in his bed.
Asleep.
He took a moment to simply bask in the sight of her there, head on his pillow, her hair spilling outward in glossy chestnut curls that shone in the warm lamplight. One bare arm was flung to her right, the other beneath her somehow. She was lying on her stomach, and unless he was mistaken, given the tempting expanse of creamy skin presently on display, she was naked beneath the coverlets.
Naked.
Verity.
In. His. Bed.
The sluggish daze caused by the absinthe and scotch vanished. King’s cock went instantly rigid. Pity that after all this time, he still had no control over the old chap. He had no intention of consummating their marriage tonight—not completely anyway. He wasn’t meant to have a naked bride in his bed or to be sporting a cockstand.
No, he was going to have to get her out of here whilst leaving her innocence intact. He looked about for a set of blankets in which to wrap her so he could safely carry her back to her own room and deposit her in her bed for the night, where she belonged.
There were none.
Blast. Did she have a wrapper? He strode around the bed, tamping down any interest his wayward body had in her, in search of a dressing gown. There was none.
Had she truly sauntered into his bedchamber naked, nary a stitch to cover her or provide for modesty? His blasted cock was rising to the occasion again. He ground his molars and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he counted to fifty.
“Is something wrong?”
His eyes flew open, his body jolting with awareness at Verity’s husky voice, sweetened with sleep yet undeniably awake. Her eyes were on him, a lone tendril of hair drapedacross her cheek. Wrong. God, no. In this moment, everything was exquisitely right. But that was the problem.
“You’re in my bed,” he said stupidly.
She smiled, and her beauty was of such blinding magnitude that he had to look away, lest he do something foolish. “Where else am I meant to be?”
He cleared his throat, directing his gaze to the corner of the chamber, which was far safer. “In your own room.”
“But why? It is our wedding night.”
“Because this is not how it is meant to be done,” he gritted, trying to maintain control over himself, a battle which grew increasingly impossible by the second.
Unable to resist, he glanced back at her. An adorable expression of befuddlement crept over her lovely features.
“There is a different way?”
“Are you wearing anything beneath the blankets, angel?” he asked before he could help himself.
“No,” she said.
He bit back a groan.
He hadn’t been wrong. Shewasnaked. Naked in his sheets. Naked where he slept. Her breasts full and free, her pretty pink nipples rubbing against the cotton, her legs…
Stop this manner of thinking at once, he commanded himself.
