What the Duke Wants(69)
Sighing in satisfaction, she nestled deeper into his embrace, drinking in the scent, the sunlight spinning into their room, the soft cadence of his breathing.
And was home.
****
Charles awoke to the soft press of his wife’s body nestled into his chest. Before he even opened his eyes, he could smell the sweet scent of her skin, the fragrance of her hair… lemons? And the perfect curve of her hips fitting against his.
And gone was the tranquil moment.
Rather, all he wanted to do was explore her again, and again and then after perhaps a break for food and water… again. Every experience he had prior to last night was pathetic, cheap and a rather poor imitation of what love could truly feel like.
It was poetic; deeper than the physical, it was stronger than any words, it was… without description. But he felt it all the same. Deep in his heart, his soul.
It was madness.
It was absolutely perfect and he couldn’t wait for each new sunrise where he’d find himself beside his wife.
With a wicked grin, he allowed his gaze to greedily take in her exposed shoulder, creamy and soft, perfectly curved, a delightful preamble to the curves to be found just beyond.
He placed a kiss to the very sensitive place he discovered last night, right where her neck and shoulder met, and lingered there, teasing the flesh with his tongue.
“You’re awake.” She spoke softly, a grin evident in her tone.
“Indeed,” he murmured against her skin.
If she were planning on saying anything else, he’d never know. Because before she had a chance, he was spinning her around, finding the sweet delight of her mouth and restarting everything they explored the night before.
Epilogue
“You’re beautiful! Miss Lottie!” Berty spun around her chambers, her dress sailing out like an umbrella. They had debated on what the girls should call her now, technically she wasn’t a ‘miss’ any longer, but old habits die hard, and well… it was quite nostalgic to hear their voices call her ‘Miss Lottie’ still. Though Charles had requested they used ‘your grace’ in front of company.
Which wasn’t often.
Thank goodness. It had been several weeks and she still couldn’t quite believe she was a duchess.
Duchess.
No matter how many times she repeated it, it never stuck. But she suspected it was because she didn’t actually care for the title, rather she simply cared for the man who gave it to her.
Charles.
“Are you ready yet, Love? There’s a fine line between fashionably late and simply late,” Charles teased as he made his way into the room. But before he could finish the teasing remark, he paused.
“Take it off.”
“What?” Carlotta blushed crimson and glanced to Berty, who had paused mid twirl with a very confused look on her face.
“You cannot wear that!” Charles’ gaze darkened, much like it did when alone with her… and she was well… taking it off.
“Charles!”
“Not—” He glanced to Berty quickly. “—like that.” He shook his head as if her coming to that conclusion was insane. “You… It… I’m a jealous man, Carlotta, and if one dandy so much as blinks in the direction of your… charms…” He coughed with a quick glance to Berty, who was watching with rapt attention. “Well, I’ll not be responsible for my actions,” he finished.
“But… this is what Lady Southridge picked for me to wear to our first ball.”
“Bloody hell, I should have guessed. That damn woman will kill me.”
“I think she looks like a fairy princess,” Berty added, helpfully.
“Berty.” Charles paused then walked gently to the little girl. Bending down he met her at eye level. “Carlotta is the most beautiful, most perfect princess in the world. Never once did I mean that she was not. Forgive my outburst, young lady. If you are so set on the dress, then she may wear it. Provided… she doesn’t leave my side and she wears a very large fur cape.”
“Large fur cape?” Carlotta asked with a daring raise of her eyebrow.
“Very, very large.”
“But then no one will see her dress!”
“Exactly.”
“You never use to be so stuffy,” she crossed her arms, narrowing her childlike gaze at him.
“I—” He closed his mouth. Narrowed his eyes and… then grinned.
“I suppose finding out I have a heart after all does that to a man,” he teased, tickling her nose with his finger.
Carlotta held her smile in check, she was so thankful for the deepening of the relationship between the girls and her husband. Being married had brought out a protective side she would have never assumed existed.
But exist it did, quite fiercely.
Heaven help the suitors who pursued the girls.
“Your grace.” Berty rolled her eyes, but grinned. “So she can wear the dress?”
“Yes. But if I injure a man. I’m blaming you.”
“Very well.” She shrugged and walked away, leaving them alone.
“So yes or no?” Carlotta pointed the dress, spinning slowly.
“Only if I get the honor of taking it off… and possibly mangling it so that you cannot wear it again,” he teased as he strode forward and kissed her favorite spot just at the base of her neck.