Page 21 of The Duke's Only Desire

But he didn’t step away. He remained behind her, so close she could feel the heat of his body seeping through her cotton shift and warming her skin. An unfamiliar pang began to echo faintly between her thighs, and her nipples dilated into hard points. A flutter in her belly struck so strongly she could barely pull in a breath without shaking.

Folding her arms innocently in front of her, she couldn’t help but glance at the bed. Sweet heavens, what was she supposed to do now? Should she crawl into bed and wait there for him to join her, or would he think her brazenly wanton? Should she just keep standing here, now staring at his chest as if his were the most intriguing waistcoat ever tailored? Or should she do something else—but what?

“There,” he murmured. “All undressed. Your bath is waiting. I should leave you to bathe in peace.”

Not daring to lift her eyes to his, she whispered tremulously, “Should I leave the door unlocked?” In other words…Will you be returning to me tonight?

“You should bathe before the water grows cold.”

“That’s not what I—”

Unexpectedly, he caressed his thumb across her bottom lip, interrupting her. He gently tilted her face up until she had no choice but to look at him, fearing he could see her nervousness on her countenance. But what she saw on his was raw heat and hunger. He stared longingly at her mouth, as if at any second he might just capture her lips beneath his.

He dropped his hand away and rasped out, his voice like gravel, “Lock the door after me.”

*

Shay stared upat the dark ceiling and did his best to ignore Pearson grinding out snores like banshee howls as he slept in the other narrow bed in their shared room, the last available room at the inn. It was either share with his valet or sleep in the barn, because there was no way under heaven that he would ever spend the night in the same room as his wife.

He blew out a hard breath, covered his face with his arm, and did his best to think about something—anything—to stop himself from replaying over in his mind the delicious torture of undressing Sophie. Dear God, he shook even now just thinking about it.

The delicious loosening of button after button, the warm wool dress, the cool cotton shift…and her smooth skin beneath whose heat seeped through the shift and caressed his fingertips. His gut had tightened to the point of pain when he’d taken her hem and peeled her dress up her body and off, leaving her in only her undergarments. Then, when the corset came off, when he could see the firelight playing through her shift and silhouetting her full curves, the long stretch of her legs…Christ, he’d nearly burst out of his skin.

Should I leave the door unlocked?He knew what she had been asking in her innocence. Sweet Lucifer, he’d wanted nothing more than to sweep her into his arms, place her onto the bed, and follow down after her. He was her husband and had every right under heaven and the law to lie with her. Even now, she was only a few yards away, and she could be in his arms in a matter of seconds, his hands stroking her until she purred, his mouth teasing the flames of desire inside her until she melted beneath him, his body possessing hers until she found the same pleasure in him he knew he would find in her.

But he couldn’t.

For all that undressing her had been torture, making love to her would have simply ended him.

Stifling a groan, he rolled onto his side, punched the lumpy pillow, and surrendered to the realization that he would get no sleep tonight. Most likely he would never sleep again. Not that insomnia was a bad thing, because he knew that if he fell asleep he would be haunted by images of the fire and the last words he’d said to his brother, the punches that had brought John to the ground. He’d killed his brother that night as surely as if he’d murdered him with his own hands, and all because he had been jealous. More than anything in the world—more than fame, fortune, and the damnable dukedom—Shay had wanted Sophie for himself, and a dark part of him that night wanted John to vanish as their mother had, just so his brother would never have her.

Wise men said that when God wanted to punish someone, he answered their prayers. That night of the fire, the twisted, evil prayer that lay unspoken in the blackest part of his heart had been answered, and he’d been punished for it every moment of every day since.

Tonight, the punishment had been unbearable.

Having to share his life with her was his penance, the worst punishment Satan could have crafted for him straight from the fires of hell, dangling her in front of him in tantalizing temptation. An angel whose love he could never possess.

A woman whose absolution he wouldneverbe able to earn.