Confessions of a Royal Bridegroom(117)

After shaking the moisture from his coat, he glanced down a line of about a dozen stalls searching for Justine. She was at the last stall, apparently having a comfortable cose with an enormous, roan-colored horse that seemed as interested in her as she was in him. The animal snuffled and snorted into her glorious red hair, knocking her hat askew as she stroked his neck, crooning to him in a soft voice.

It occurred to Griffin that he’d like to be in a similar position, with Justine’s hands petting him as he played with her silken hair and kissed his way down her slender throat to her generous breasts.


Once that idea got into his head, it locked on like a bulldog’s bite. He’d left Justine alone for a few days, attempting for once in his life to be a true gentleman, and the strain was beginning to wear on him. After all, she was his wife and he had every right to take her. God knew there were few benefits for either of them in this marriage, other than the most obvious one. And as he watched her now, taking in her sweet face and even sweeter figure, it occurred to him that he’d been a complete fool to abandon his plan to seduce her into his bed—or her bed, as the case may be.

And why not? Though Justine might think an annulment was still possible, Griffin knew how ridiculous that notion was, as did Dominic. No, they were riveted together for life, and she might as well get used to it. That being the case, there was no reason they couldn’t indulge themselves in the pleasures of the marital bed. It would certainly make him a hell of a lot happier, and he suspected it would go a long way toward soothing her fretful nerves. In his experience, frequent sex had a remarkably leveling effect on a woman’s temperament.

Soft and giving, and made to warm a man’s bed, Justine was born to be a wife. Griffin might not be the obvious choice, but he was the man who’d wed her, and he wouldn’t be fool enough to ignore such a treasure.

He closed the stable door behind him, muting the sound of the downpour. A quick glance around the stalls and the tack room suggested that he and Justine were alone with the horses. His satisfaction grew as he strolled toward her, stopping briefly to inspect the matched pair of bays that were the only other animals in the building besides the roan.

Justine glanced his way when she heard his footsteps, surprise making her mouth briefly drop open. Before she closed it, her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, as if she were nervous. So simple a gesture, and yet it captured Griffin’s undivided attention.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you come in,” she said in a diffident voice.

He draped the cloak over the rail of the empty stall next to them. “You were whispering confidences to this fine fellow.”

As he reached to pat the animal’s neck, his arm brushed across the front of her bodice. Griffin had to repress a smile at Justine’s sharp intake of breath. “Who would have ever thought I’d be reduced to jealousy over Dominic’s cattle,” he said with an exaggerated sigh.

A smile quirked the corner of her mouth, creating a perfect dimple in her left cheek. Funny, he’d not noticed it before. Then again, Justine didn’t smile much. True, she lacked cause, but he decided it was past time to redress that dismal state of affairs.

“That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard,” she said. “How can you be jealous of a horse?”

He braced a hand on the stall, boxing her in. “I’m jealous of anything that takes your attention away from me,” he murmured.

Griffin let his gaze drop to her plush lips, not bothering to mask his intent. Justine froze, collecting stillness around herself in the way of a small animal trying to escape the notice of a predator. Unfortunately for her, it had the effect of bringing his most rapacious instincts to the surface.