Page 87 of The Devilish Pleasures of a Duke

“A Boscastle,” the duke mused. “How did you manage it?”

He shook his head, unable to hide his pride and happiness. “I don’t know. But I will confess she is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Married and obviously besotted. I look forward to meeting your wife at breakfast.”

Besotted.

Adrian locked the bedchamber door behind him and stared at the alluring figure on the bed. There was a book, still open, in her hand.

The candle on the nightstand had burned low. He blew it out, undressed, and crawled into bed beside his wife.

She sat up with a small shriek of protest. “Adrian, you are absolutely freezing!”

He laughed and pulled her back into his arms. “You’re very warm,” he whispered, burying his hands in her hair.

“What about your father?”

“I don’t know. I’d say he tended toward the cold side, but if you’re really curious, you could ask Bridgewater.”

She arched her brow. “Since you’re smiling, I shall assume all went well.”

“Well enough. We didn’t argue.”

She sighed as if she sensed what he’d left unsaid, then curled herself around his body. “Still, it must feel good to be home.”

The warmth of her presence relaxed him. His wife. “It feels good to be here with you. I wouldn’t have come back alone.”

Her voice deepened to a drowsy whisper. “It’s a beautiful estate, Adrian. The park looked like paradise in the moonlight.”

He stroked his hand down her spine. “I’ll show you the rest of it tomorrow.”

“And I suppose I’ll meet everyone then?”

He closed his eyes. It wasn’t home. Too many painful memories lingered, in every room, in every face. “You’ve already met my brother. Florence and my father are impatient to see the lady who tamed me.”

“No old friends showed up for the prodigal’s return?” she asked innocently.

“If you mean Serena,” he said mischievously, “then no.”

She was quiet for a moment. He wished she understood that there never had been, nor would there be, a woman who could compare to her.

“Do you think,” she asked after several moments, “that you might like to stay here?”

“In Berkshire, perhaps. I promised you a country school. But not here. Not now.”

“I do feel guilty,” she whispered, “that I left my duties in London unfulfilled.”

“We can leave whenever you wish,” he said idly. He’d never discussed his foreign investments with her. The typical English aristocrat thought earning money to be a vulgar occupation, but the truth was that he could afford to make their home anywhere she desired.

She sat up unexpectedly, leaving him bereft of her pleasingly warm body. “Are you in a particular hurry to make a return journey with Hermia and Odham, my lord?”

“That,” he said, pulling her back against him with a laugh, “is a thought to give one pause.”

Chapter Twenty

Emma had anticipated that the next day would challenge the sum total of her social knowledge. She had not expected, however, that Adrian would abandon her before breakfast. She could have cheerfully crowned the devil.

He had gone off riding with his brother to survey the estate, which meant she would sit alone with the duke in the private winter room—a retreat so opulently designed it would have befitted a Roman emperor.