Page 51 of To Ensnare a Duke

BENEDICT

Iwatch my wife-to-be as she paces her room. Shuttered in the shadows, she has no idea I observe every movement from the safety of the hidden passage. Her movements are frenetic, fraught with anxiety and need.

When I saw the disbelief on her face when I told her I’d know if she satisfied herself, I nearly laughed out loud. Even now, she doesn’t realize her movements are fueled by her lustful urges. For most, my words would, no doubt, be a farce of sorts.

They’d be able to remain calm despite desiring me or being depleted. My little hoyden, on the other hand, has not mastered such an art. Here, in the privacy of her room, she drops the facade, revealing the true depth of her need to me.

Thankfully, she was able to quell her actions a touch around the others. But then, they will probably read any nervousness as simply a young bride preparing for her wedding day. It is to be expected.

Only I know the truth. Even now, the scent of her arousal floods the room, nearly stealing my breath. How I wish to indulge. But then, she must understand the severity of her actions. Though part of me will always applaud her temerity in ensnaring me, I must impart punishment for putting herself at risk.

Every now and then, she pauses and glances over at her little table. The flowers I gave her during our chaperoned meeting stand tall and proud, an outward show of my affection. With an almost reverent touch, she glides her fingers over the petals.

I bite back a groan as I picture her hands touching me that same way. How I long to feel her fingers caressing my cock as she explores me with her tongue and lips. The pain of waiting is punishment for us both.

Shifting a bit, I slide my hand into my pocket, fondling the real gift I have for her. The flowers were for society. This one is for me.

"You look vexed, my dear. Whatever seems to be the matter?"

Augusta whirls around, her hand fluttering over her chest. "Oh. It's just you."

"Just me? Were you expecting anyone else?" I do my best to tamp down the jealousy flaring inside as I stride toward her. "Lord Harhall perhaps?" The way her nose wrinkles in disgust as I say that name is all the confirmation I need.

"He seems affable and all, but I wouldn't want nor need to see him in my bedchambers. But what about you? Why are you here?"

My lips tilt up into a smirk as I lie down on the bed and spread my arms wide. "Can't a prospective groom give his soon-to-be-wife a gift?"

Her eyes narrow as suspicion lines her face. "You've already given me roses. They were quite adequate."

"Adequate?" I tease. "I'll have you know those are some of the finest flowers in the hot house. What more could you possibly want?"

Desperation quivers through her body as she eases over to me, her face flushed. "There is something you could give me."

"And that is?"

"I… Well… That is… What I mean to say…”

"Spit it out, minx. I haven't all night. Convincing the Archbishop of Canterbury that we are indeed madly in love and need to marry right away took longer than I expected, and I have other matters to attend to."

"You know what I want," she scowls, sending a thrill of laughter through me.

"Of course I know what you want. You wish to have a much bigger bouquet. Am I correct?"

Augusta balls up her fist and punches my shoulder. The poor dear seems to hold back, as if she's afraid to actually hurt me. "That's not what I want, and you know it."

"Hmmm. I do have other gifts planned for this week. But those are supposed to be a surprise."

"What I want isn't a gift. not really. It's…"

That adorable blush fans over her cheeks, going up to the root of her hair. "Then tell me, sweet girl. What do you want?"

"I…"

"Yes?" I tease, my lips curling into a wide grin.

It's not often I get to see her this flustered, and I enjoy watching the play of emotions over her face.

"You see… What I want…" Again, she trails off and waves her hand around the lower half of her body.