“Kiss me back,” he said against her mouth.

She did so, meeting each turn and slide of his lips with equal passion. His hips pumped, slowly, then faster. Amid the discomfort came the return of pleasure. She thrust her feet into the mattress, lifting her hips, seeking it, wanting it.

Her movement pleased him. He grunted, and his movements became more urgent.

“I can’t be gentle,” he whispered against her throat. “Please forgive me. I’ve waited so long.”

With a groan, he rose up on his knees. The blankets slid from his body. He lifted her buttocks and speared her deep.

A sudden pulse of pleasure erupted at the center of her womb to crash outward through her body, all the way into her toes and fingertips. His head fell back, and he rocked into her, hissing between his teeth. She cried out, never having expected such power. Her heart stopped beating—certainly it did—and she glimpsed a paradise created of violet and velvet and stars.

He throbbed deep inside her. With a groan, he collapsed over her, his arms braced on either side, his blue eyes staring down into hers.

In that moment, the look he gave her, she could almost believe he loved her.

* * *

Claxton’s first awareness the next morning was of an uncomfortable chill. Without opening his eyes, he pulled Sophia close and tugged the blanket over the both of them. To his irritation, she’d donned her night rail, which come to think of it, was fashioned of a rather crisp and unwieldy fabric. Her perfume clouded his nose.

All wrong.

He opened his eyes to find himself in the midst of a living nightmare.

Annabelle stretched and yawned, giving the appearance that she’d only just awakened. “Good morning, Claxton.”

The sudden realization came over him as to why he’d been so cold and devoid of a blanket. Annabelle hadn’t been asleep at all.

“Bloody hell.”

He shot across the bed, as far from her as possible, snatching a pillow over his nakedness. She, thank God, was fully clothed, wearing even a heavy pelisse and matching hat tied under her chin. An enormous fur muff lay discarded on the chair.

“Where is the Duchess of Claxton?” he demanded.

He’d only just managed to seduce his wife into his bed. He did not need this to frighten her away again.

Annabelle looked about, wide-eyed, as if she’d only just realized Sophia was not present. “I don’t know. She was here when I fell asleep.”

“More importantly,” he growled, eyes narrowing. “What in the devil are you doing here?” He slid backward off the mattress, pulling the bed curtain across his hips.

She lolled languidly, smiling like a naughty cat. “Things have become unbearable at the inn. Meltenbourne is being very bad tempered. It’s so very disconcerting. Your brother and I made our way here early this morning while everyone was still asleep.”

Of course, the house had been made secure last night, safe against all intruders except the one other person in Lacenfleet who had a key.

“I mean why are you here?” he snapped. “In my bed?”

She blinked innocently. “I was so cold and exhausted once we arrived. I just wanted to get warm and go back to sleep. Why are there no servants to lay fires or make up rooms?”

This bed was already occupied, if you did not notice. There’s another perfectly good bed across the hall, or did you simply not look?”

She shrugged. “The common people do it all the time, sleep three or four or more to a bed, especially in cold weather when it’s too cold to sleep alone. I don’t see why we can’t as well when circumstances warrant. It is the country, after all.”

Claxton thrust his shirttails into his breeches. Boots. Coat. Walked toward the door.

He glared down at her. “You overstep, my lady. Quite deliberately, I believe. Don’t do it again.”

Her smile faded into a pout.

He found Haden, not Sophia, in the great room, sprawled and snoring on the settee. One firm kick collapsed the leg, sending the oblivious sleeper atilt. His brother’s eyes popped open.

Vane glowered down from above. “What in the hell are you doing here, and why did you bring that doxy with you?”

Haden rolled onto his side and with gloved hands pulled his coat over his face. “I didn’t really have a choice about bringing her. I can’t seem to get rid of her.”

“Lord Meltenbourne is coming up the hill with a young boy.”

Vane jerked at hearing Sophia’s voice.

She stood at the window, a cup of tea in her hand. Fully dressed in dark blue wool, she’d pinned up her hair and looked nothing like the temptress of the night before.

“Indeed, I believe half the village is following him.” She sipped. “Oh, Claxton. I do believe I’ve at last prepared a respectable cup of tea.”

Her tone was suspiciously unaffected and underscored by a distinct coolness.

Vane strode toward her. He spoke softly so that his brother would not overhear. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” Her smile, her eyes, shined too bright.

“For Lady Meltenbourne in our bed this morning.”

Sophia’s eyes widened. With an angry flare of her nostrils, she said, “No matter. What happens in your bed is your affair.”

“What? No,” he sputtered, hating the tone of her voice, the implication of her words. He grasped her arm and pulled her against him. “You can’t honestly believe—”

To his surprise, she softened and leaned in to him. “No, I don’t believe, but tonight, Claxton—”

“Tonight what?”

“We’ll be sure to lock the door.”

Relief spread through his chest. “Yes, we will.”

He pressed a kiss to her lips.

“What is that infernal caterwauling?”

The question came from the settee. Vane turned. He’d been so focused on trying to mend things with Sophia, he had not heard the other sound, the one coming from outside.

“I told you. It is Lord Meltenbourne,” said Sophia, having redirected her attention out the window again. “I do believe he is shouting something about a duel.”

“Oh, that,” arose the muffled response.

Vane stormed to the settee. He gripped the upper frame and gave a fierce shove. Haden tumbled onto the floor, a tangle of arms and legs.

Oh, that?” Vane growled. “What do you mean by that?”

Clothes and hair in disarray, Haden scowled up from his new position on the carpet. With obvious reluctance, he said, “That’s why I came here this morning. I didn’t take him seriously, though. I thought he’d settle down once I removed myself from the premises. Only the countess insisted on coming along.”

Vane tamped down his first instinct to explode. This was not at all how he had imagined his and Sophia’s morning to begin. They should have awakened quietly in each other’s arms so that he could reassure her that the night before had not been a mistake. Though heartened by her exhortation to lock their door tonight, he could not help but notice she’d not once actually met his gaze this morning. Perhaps she had regrets. Perhaps she had not been affected as deeply as he had. For the first time in his life, he doubted his ability to seduce, which seemed perfectly, disturbingly right given she was the only woman he’d truly ever wanted. What if the thaw came today, and she insisted on returning to London straightaway?

They needed more time. If only he could get the interlopers out of his house.

“You are the one who created this debacle.” Claxton crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t expect me to be your second.”

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