My Once and Future Duke (The Wagers of Sin #1)(94)

“Philip says she’s a clever, pretty girl . . .”

Jack smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. “She is. Clever enough to want to go to Egypt and discover antiquities, rather than marry a stuffy old duke.”

Sophie raised her brows, unable to stop smiling. “You?”

He gave her his wicked grin, the one she was increasingly certain he reserved for her alone. “I’m afraid so.”

She laughed, and he grinned before shifting his hold on her, until her back was against his chest and her legs straddled his. “Do you know what I thought of doing on that long, long ride to Alwyn House?” he murmured against her nape.

“You said . . .” Her voice broke as his hands skimmed up her thighs, over her belly, to settle around her breasts. “You said you only wanted to teach Philip a lesson . . .”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. The lesson was that he should not interfere in my seduction of you.” He eased the dress off her shoulder with one hand and pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss on her bare skin.

Sophie quaked. “Was that your plan?”

“Plan?” He laughed softly. “I had no plan. Was it the driving thought I couldn’t keep from my mind, no matter how hard I tried? Absolutely. Even when you wore a housemaid’s dress and had cobwebs in your hair.”

She thought of that moment in the attics, when he had brushed close by her and her body had all but gone up in flames. “Did you know I wanted you then?” she whispered, letting her head fall back as his wicked hands ravished her.

His hands paused. “I think we shall live in Alwyn House,” he said after a moment. “Fill it with children and laughter and happiness, so that someday, our great--grandchildren will explore the attics and marvel at how deeply the ninth duke loved his wife.” He kissed the back of her neck, his lips lingering. “My future duchess.”

“Jack.” She gave a little sigh. “My future duke.”

“Until the end of time,” he agreed.





Epilogue





Six weeks later



Hold still, Sophie.”

“I am.”

“No,” he said, with a crease of exasperation between his brows, “you’re not. Your hand is brushing your bodice and it’s driving me mad.”

Sophie laughed. “Like this?” She ran her fingers over her breast, arching her back as she did so.

Her husband’s eyes riveted on her hand. For a moment she thought he would act on the desire she could read in his face, but after a moment he gave his head a small shake and turned back to his sketch pad. “You’re the one who asked me to draw you.”

She smiled. She had, but he was the one who told her to recline on the library sofa in this artlessly seductive pose. Her skirts were pulled up to expose her bare feet, and her hair tumbled loose and free over the arm of the sofa. Merely lying here made her think of the first time he’d made love to her, and how easily he could do so again, now that they were married.

But it was true that she had encouraged him to draw. “I only suggested you draw me because we’ve been alone at Alwyn this past month,” she remarked. “Unless you wish to sketch Wilson while he polishes the silver, I’m the only person who can sit for you.”

“I have no interest in sketching Wilson or anyone else polishing the silver.” His golden hair fell forward over his eyes as he rubbed out something on his pad. It had taken her this long to persuade him it wouldn’t be ridiculous to try his hand at sketching again. But once he picked up the pencil and paper, his reluctance faded away and his face grew intent and absorbed. Her heart felt so full it might burst.

“No?” She grinned. “That ruins my plan to polish your mother’s epergne without any clothes on.”

His pencil stopped moving. Jack drew a deep breath and glanced up at her. “You’re about to be ravished, madam. And doomed never to have a sketch of yourself that anyone else may see.”

Sophie laughed again. She crossed her legs, giving her skirts a little kick to get them out of the way so she could wiggle her toes at him. Jack dropped his sketch pad and pencil on the floor and crossed the room in one step, going down on his knee beside her.

“Heartless wench,” he murmured. “Teasing your poor husband like that . . .”

She wound her arms around his neck. “I humbly apologize. How shall I console him?”

“Oh no, I’m going to repay you. Be careful what you wish for, my dear . . .” His hand closed on her ankle and slid up her leg. “I was drawing you naked, and now I’d like to see you that way.”

Sophie gasped, then laughed, and then caught her breath as he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the pulse at the base of her throat. Wordlessly she clutched his head to her bosom, embracing the tide of heat rushing through her body. Both his hands were under her skirt now, plowing upward, and a tremor went through her. Five weeks of marriage had done nothing to diminish her craving for his touch. Everything else about her new life felt strange and awkward still—-from her mother--in--law’s cool regard to her splendid new wardrobe to the way servants bowed when she walked by—-but when it was just the two of them, she and Jack, everything felt right.

There was a knock at the door. Wilson had walked in on Jack kissing her rather passionately one morning in the breakfast room, and now he never entered a room without knocking. Sophie appreciated that even if Jack, who’d had servants every day of his life, saw no need for it.