Page 45 of The Scarred Lyon

Mr. McGloin stood when they entered the room.

“You look lovely, Augusta,” Laura said. “My gown is a near-perfect fit. The silver shade accentuates your lovely raven hair.”

The footmen pulled out their chairs, and they sat.

“Thank you. I will need more clothes. I lost gowns in the accident, and I am afraid the few others I own are hopelessly outdated,” Augusta replied.

“Something to add to our growing list,” Laura said. The footmen carried in trays of food. “I thought we would skip right to the main course tonight.”

Duncan rubbed his hands together. “Roast beef?”

“Absolutely. With your favorite trimmings,” Augusta replied.

The conversation was warm and lively, and after the mince pie, Duncan stood and held out his hand to Augusta. “Forgive us if we forgo the brandy and after-dinner conversation. We are both still exhausted from our adventure.”

“Of course.” Laura gave them a knowing smile. “I will see you in the morning.”

“I will be down at seven, Patrick, to see you off.”

“Good night, Your Graces,” Patrick replied, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As they ascended the stairs, Augusta whispered. “I think they know what we are about to do.”

“I have no doubt. I told Turner that we are not to be disturbed for the rest of the night. Laura was right about the silver gown. It makes your luminous skin shimmer in the candlelight.”

“Oh, thank you. I do like it immensely when you compliment me.”

“Then I shall do it often.”

As soon as they entered the bedroom, Duncan kicked the door shut with his foot and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. Then he grimaced in pain.

“You are still recovering,” Augusta said worriedly.

“Not enough to forgo another night.” He nuzzled her neck. “I need to be inside you.”

Her insides fluttered as her body responded to his heated words.

“Then we shall not delay another minute. But we will do it my way.”

Duncan pulled back and gave her a bemused look. “Your way?”

“Yes. Allow me to take the reins, as it were.” Augusta gently removed his sling and tossed it on the chair. “We shall take great care in not moving your arm much. Let us slowly remove your coat. There. One sleeve at a time.”

“This is torturous,” Duncan moaned.

“But think of the anticipation,” Augusta crooned as she tossed the coat onto the nearby chair.

“I never knew I possessed such a vast amount of restraint,” Duncan said. “I’ve wanted you from nearly the moment we met.”

With his coat and waistcoat already removed, Augusta unbuttoned his shirt and slowly pulled it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. With a feather-light touch, she trailed the tips of her fingers over the brown-and-yellow bruises. Duncan moaned in response.

“Does it hurt?”

“No. Your touch is igniting my skin in the best way possible.”

Augusta plunged her fingers through his chest hair, playfully caressing him as her hands moved lower to the waistband of his trousers.

Duncan slipped an arm about her waist and pulled her close against that very hard part of him. “See what you do to me?”