Page 16 of Duke with a Deception
“It is common practice for husband and wife to keep separate rooms,” he explained patiently. “Accordingly, such matters as marital congress are ordinarily arranged.”
Hell. How frigid and proper he sounded. He didn’t think he had ever referred to fucking asmarital congressin his life. But this was different. He was speaking to Verity, his wife. One didn’t debauch one’s wife on the wedding night.
Did one?
His cock suggested it was an excellent idea to do so.
His mind told his inconveniently randy prick to shut up.
“Arranged?” she repeated, sounding dismayed. “Do you mean to say in the manner of a society engagement?”
It sounded rather silly when she framed it thus.
“Not precisely.” He took a deep breath, willing his stirred anatomy back into submission. “But I do mean to say that you cannot stroll about naked and wait for me in my bed at your leisure.”
Her frown deepened. “I can’t?”
How had he ever been fool enough to imagine he could survive marrying an innocent and not wanting to bed her at once like the depraved monster he was?
“No, angel,” he said gently. “You cannot. Did you consider what would have happened had my valet been within?”
Pink crept over her cheeks, giving him his answer before she spoke.
“No, I didn’t.”
“It wouldn’t do for Hutchens to see youen dishabille.”
“Does he linger in your room? I confess, I haven’t any experience in such matters.” A shadow passed over her features as she paused for a moment. “That is to say, I don’tbelieveI have any experience in such matters. I daresay I ought not to have. But there are holes in my recollections that do leave me wondering.”
There it was, the reminder she had lost parts of her memory. That, unbeknownst to her, she had inexplicably replaced the man she had once loved in her mind with King instead.
He didn’t want to think of that now. Perhaps not ever. If she never recalled the pieces of her past that had been lost, then he would never have to explain himself. She could live in contented ignorance, and he could carry on pretending he was worthy of her.
“I am certain you haven’t any experience,” he reassured her, crossing the room to distract himself by splashing some water on his face.
Although he had requested heated water to be ready for him, the water in the basin had long since grown cold. It was a shock to his senses, but a much-needed one as he cupped his hands and lifted the liquid to his face.
The cooled water, unfortunately, did nothing to quell his swiftly rising ardor. It was an endless taunt in his mind. Verity was here in his bed. Naked. She was his wife. It was his right—his duty, even—to bed her. To take what she was offering and sink inside her welcoming heat. To pleasure her until she came and then pleasure her some more.
“I’ve displeased you,” she said from somewhere over his shoulder, the bedclothes rustling. “That wasn’t my intention. I merely wanted to surprise you.”
And surprise him she most definitely had. The last thing he had expected was a naked, sleeping, soft, sweet-scented Verity awaiting him in his bed.
“You don’t displease me,” he reassured her, for he had heard a note of hurt in her voice, and he couldn’t bear to be the source of her discontent.
Not for a moment.
Blotting his face on a towel that Hutchens had left conveniently placed by the bowl for him, King turned back to her.
Lowering the towel proved an instant mistake.
Because Verity was no longer in his bed. Her creamy curves were not hidden beneath coverlets and sheets, tempting but indistinct. No, indeed. Now, she was standing barefoot and nude on the Axminster, every inch of her glorious feminine form on display for him.
He should look away.
If he were a gentleman, he would.
But he wasn’t, so he couldn’t.
