Page 20 of The Duke's Only Desire

Christ, he was shaking! Even his fingers trembled as he raked them through his hair and called out to whoever was at the door to enter.

“Sir.” Mr. Greene stuck his head inside the room with the proud smile. “Your bedroom is ready. First room at the top of the stairs.” He reached inside and laid the key and a candle stub on the end of the sideboard.

With a nod at Sophie, completely oblivious to the sudden tension that filled the room like a dense fog, Greene withdrew and left them alone.

Shay cast a glance down the table at the mostly untouched plates and then at Sophie, who stared at him as if he were a stranger again. Dinner was over.

“I think we should retire for the evening.” He snatched up the candle stub and lit it on the wall sconce. Then he picked up the key and held out his hand to her. “We have an early start in the morning.”

Sophie parted her lips as if to say something, but then stopped, gave a silent nod instead, and took his arm, letting him lead her through the inn and up to the bedroom.

The room was small and cool, lit and warmed only by a small coal fire that would give Sophie enough time to bathe and undress before it died away without having to be banked for the night. Hot water steamed in a small copper tub, so did another kettle of water tucked just into the edge of the fireplace coals so she would have warm water to wash with in the morning when she woke. Her travel bag rested at the foot of the bed.

Shay lit a taper candle sitting on the bedside table beside a bottle of port and two glasses, then extinguished the stub and set it down next to the room key. “Will this do for the night?”

“Yes, except…”

The breathless whisper surprised him, and he turned toward her. “Except?”

“I don’t have a maid to help me.” She swallowed so hard he could hear it halfway across the room. “Smithson isn’t here, and I don’t know if…” Her uncertain voice trailed off, and she bit her bottom lip. Her blue eyes were bigger and softer than Shay ever remembered seeing them as they slowly rose from the bed to look at him. She pulled in a deep breath as if gathering her courage. “If you want…to undress me?”

*

Sophie held herbreath, waiting for his answer as her heart pounded so fiercely in her chest that her breastbone ached, that the sound of blood coursing through her ears blocked out the faint noise of the common rooms below. She wasn’t asking to be undressed, although she certainly couldn’t take off the dress on her own without tearing the buttons.

No, what she was asking without having the courage to say it…Will you come to me tonight, to lie with me as my husband?

If her mother hadn’t abandoned her when she was so young, she would have known what to expect tonight. She would have known if newlywed husbands and wives made love in roadside inns, or if they waited until they were in their own beds in their own homes. Most of all, she would have known what to expect from Shay. Smithson, bless her, had tried to prepare her last night, but Sophie doubted the information the unmarried maid had given her—that she should close her eyes and simply lie there—was at all right.

And now Shay was staring at her as if she’d just admitted to killing the king.

“It’s all right,” she whispered, doing her best to hide her humiliation. “I’ll manage on my own to—”

“Come here.”

The soft order wrapped around her like warm velvet. Oh, that did nothing to alleviate her nervousness! Or her uncertainty. Each slow step that brought her around the bed to him only grew the knot of nerves tingling low in her belly.

She turned her back to him and forced her ragged breath to emerge smoothly, yet it seemed to catch on the fast tattoo of her heartbeat. “Just a…few buttons…” she somehow managed to sayand sound relatively normal, but she wasn’t certain he’d heard her because for a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then she felt his hands on the back of her bodice, his fingers moving slowly to free each tiny pearl button. Each passing second his hands brushed against her back was torment, and she didn’t know what she should do or say. If she should simply stand there, still as a statue, or if she should toss a flirtatious, teasing comment over her shoulder to break the thick tension radiating between them.

Her bodice loosened and sagged low as the last button came free. Even now, still wearing another two layers of underclothes, her nervousness got the better of her, and she reached up quickly to hold her dress in place over her bosom.

She whispered over her shoulder, “Thank you for—”

“Wait.” He took her bare shoulders and stopped her from stepping away.

Her belly tightened as she felt him bend down to take the hem of her dress and lift it carefully up her body, slipping it over her head and off. He laid it gently over the foot of the bed.

Now standing inches away from him in the dim shadows in only her undergarments, she trembled. Her skin heated as his hands reached once more for her back, this time to unlace her corset.

If unbuttoning her bodice and removing her dress had been nerve-wracking, having his fingers slowly tugging at the lace that zigzagged along her spine was absolutely torturous. His knuckles brushed against her back as he pulled free each loop, and each accidental caress flamed heat across her skin as if the thin shift wasn’t there at all, as if he were caressing her bare back.

The corset came loose around her, and she folded her arms over her front, keeping it in place as if it were armor, the only thing that could protect her heart from wounding. But hisfingers nimbly pushed it open, then gently tugged it away until it slipped from her trembling fingers and landed on the floor at her feet. She took a deep breath, now standing only inches from him in nothing more than her shift and stockings.

She closed her eyes against the way her body ached to have his hands on her and his mouth kissing her, to have him reassuring her that theirs would be a proper marriage despite how it had begun. All he had to do was slide his hands down her sides, along the outer swells of her breasts and down to her hips, to caress her with their strength and warmth—

Instead, he dropped his hands away, and she nearly cried out in frustration.