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door creaked open and she thought she must have one of
the footmen oil it. Then her husband was filling the doorway and she quite
forgot everything. He wore a black dressing gown, his large bare feet and
strong, masculine calves peeking beneath its hem. Her face went warm and she
was sure she was flushed as a ripe apple. Her eyes traveled up from the tie
drawn at his lean waist to the sliver of his bare chest visible. Their gazes
clashed and a delicious tide of longing washed over her.
    “Victoria,” he murmured. “I was afraid you’d have fallen
asleep.”
    She swallowed. “I couldn’t have slept a wink waiting for
you.”
    Perhaps she had revealed too much, for his expression
shifted, his jawline hardening. “Are you certain you’re prepared for this?”
    No.
    But she couldn’t tell him as much. “I am ready. Please, come
in.”
    He’d been lingering at the threshold but at her urging, he
finally crossed the invisible boundary between his chamber and hers. The
adjoining door squeaked closed again at his back. He was unbearably handsome.
His thick hair was ruffled, as if he’d been passing a hand through it. Had he
been as nervous as she?
    It seemed so ridiculous for a practiced man of the world to
be as anxious as she.
    They both began moving toward one another, meeting in the
center of the room. She gazed up at him, framing his beautiful face with her
palms. His cheeks were slightly scratchy with the texture of the whiskers he’d
shaved that morning. She rather enjoyed the prickle against her skin.
    “Is this real?” she asked, aware she likely sounded silly
but unable to help herself.
    His sultry mouth quirked into a semblance of a smile. He
took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, then lowered it to his chest. “Of
course it is, my dear. Feel me. I’m quite real, I assure you.”
    “I didn’t mean that, not exactly.” She searched his eyes but
found them unreadable. “This isn’t some sense of duty or a lark for you, is it?
I don’t think I could bear it if it were.”
    His expression tightened, his smile fading. “It isn’t a
lark. I want you.” He guided her hand down over the silky robe to the rigid
outline of his manhood, pressing himself into her.
    She was shocked and titillated at the same time. “Good
heavens.”
    Another smile claimed his lips. He slid his arms round her
waist and drew her more firmly against his body. “It has been far too long
since I’ve made love to you, wife.”
    Victoria lost the ability to speak. Without the proper
layers of clothing, boning and petticoats between them, she could feel the hard
strength and maleness of him in a way she never had before. Their previous
joining had been quick, painful at first but then pleasurable indeed. But she
had been so focused upon the new sensation of him inside her body that she’d
quite missed out on the rest. His body molded to hers was a new and enticing
experience that sent an exquisite ache to her core.
    She liked it.
    He lowered his mouth to hers, giving her a possessive kiss.
She opened, playing her tongue against his. He tasted of spirits. Her hands
settled on his shoulders, soaking in the heat and strength of him. A spurt of
restlessness kicked up within her stomach, longing settling lower along with a
languorous throbbing.
    The kiss deepened. Pembroke cupped her bottom through her
thin wrapper, ensuring their bodies touched in all the right places.
    “Finally,” he muttered, tearing his lips from hers. “I don’t
have to wrestle with that evil contraption you call a bustle.”
    She laughed despite the heady mix of sensations setting her
at sixes and sevens. “It’s fashion. A must for a gown with a train.”
    “To hell with fashion. Have you any idea how many silly
trains I’ve trampled at balls?” He caught the ends of the tie at her waist and
pulled. Her wrapper gaped, revealing nearly all of her breasts. One more tug
and the ends completely fell apart. He ran hot palms over her