Page 32 of The Duke's Only Desire

Chapter Eight

Shay strode intothe entrance hall, welcoming the silent, dark warmth that greeted him after another evening wasted in the noisy tavern.

The long case clock in the stairs hall struck midnight, and as the chimes died away, he stared up at the large portrait hanging over the fireplace where he’d paused to warm himself just as he’d done every night since his return from London. The painting was life-sized, a joint portrait of his father and John from years ago when his brother had just turned thirteen and before his mother had fled. The duke and the heir, both looking full of vitality and power…yet neither of them was given the future they’d expected.

Shay supposed he should take the portrait down, stash it up in the attic, or put it with the rest of the Douglass ancestors whose pictures graced the long gallery. But for years he’d needed this reminder of what he’d cost the dukedom, so he could serve penance every time he entered the place that should have been his home but never had been.

“And never will be,” he muttered and lowered his gaze to the fire. Just as on every other night, it had been left burning so he could warm himself when he returned.

And just as on every other night, Pearson met him in the entry hall to take his coat, hat, and gloves.

“You won’t need me and will undress yourself,” Pearson anticipated, although it wasn’t much of a guess. Shay had given him the same orders every night for the past sennight.

“Correct. But be up at dawn. I want to ride out early.”

Pearson chuckled as he shook out the greatcoat and mumbled, “Perhaps not.”

“Pardon?”

“Goodnight, Colonel.” Pearson turned to leave, and Shay could have sworn he heard another laugh from the valet. “Sleep well!”

Good Lord, had the entire world gone mad? “No,” he muttered to himself as he headed upstairs to his bed, even though he knew sleep wouldn’t come. “Just my little corner of it.”

He opened his bedroom door and froze.

A small table had been placed in front of the fireplace and set for dinner for two, right down to Ravenscroft Manor’s best china plates, crystal, and silver. Candles flickered in their crystal holders and matched the soft, golden light of the fire that warmed the room against the cold darkness of the winter night. Roasted pheasant and braised vegetables filled both plates, and decanted red and white wine shimmered in their crystal bottles. Even the dumbwaiter from the banqueting hall had been brought up, placed beside the table and covered with various desserts, including chocolate cakes, poached pears, and sugared orange peels.

It was a feast that could have fed a regiment. But it was the woman standing behind the table that seized his attention.

And stopped his heart.

Sophie stood in the soft glow of the firelight wearing a white silk and lace confection that rivaled any of the desserts for delectability. She was breathtaking, with the negligee’s silk skirt coming down only to mid-calf and the tight lace bodice leavingvery little to his imagination, her gold hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders. Silhouetted by the firelight, the round, full curves of her hips and thighs were revealed through the silk, along with the small circles of her rosy nipples that pressed against the low-cut lace, which was closed by a single velvet ribbon twining up the bodice.

She boldly locked gazes with him across the room. “Hungry?”

His cock jumped.Famished.

How he kept himself from slamming shut the door and taking her right there on the table, he had no idea. Or how he managed to slowly step inside the room and close the door behind him with a soft click before an errant footman passing in the hall could catch a glimpse of her and force Shay to kill him for it.

Needing time to recover, he stripped off his jacket as casually as possible, as if finding his nearly naked wife in his bedroom was as normal as a Sunday roast. “I ate at the Red Lion.”

“Tavern food. You probably didn’t enjoy a bite of it.” A knowing smile played at her pink lips. “Then it’s a good thing I had your favorites prepared.” She shrugged a shoulder, bare except for a thin strap of ribbon that precariously held up the bodice. What a damn shame if the ribbon broke and her gown fell down of its own volition…or was helped by his teeth. “I’m sure you’ll want seconds.”

Christ.Fate was either playing a cruel joke on him, or the devil had finally come to bargain for his soul by presenting him with the greatest temptation imaginable.

Knowing better than to rise to that bait—did she even know what kinds of sexual entendres were spilling from her lips?—he sank onto a wing back chair in the corner that had been moved away from the fireplace to make room for the table. Leaning forward to yank off his boots, he gestured a hand at her. “I know you’re new to Ravenscroft Manor, but we dress for dinner here.And you’re not dressed.” Dropping the first boot to the floor, he couldn’t help but rake a lingering look over her. “At all.”

“Don’t you like it?” She turned slowly in a circle like a debutante showing off her first ball gown. But the effect only allowed him to see even more of her curves beneath the nearly translucent skirt, including that place at the juncture of her thighs where he knew he would find golden curls. “I wanted to look pretty for you.”

He bit back a laugh. She would have looked beautiful in burlap or in nothing at all. The laugh turned into a frustrated groan.Especiallyin nothing at all.

“What do you think?” she pressed. “Does it make me look pretty?”

“You look…”Delectable.“Cold,” he managed to force out.

“I’m warm.” She gestured toward the fire. “Downright hot, in fact.”

The second boot dropped. He didn’t have the patience for this. Or the restraint.