Page 79 of Distracting the Duke

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her put the ewer on the night table and step back. Good. He didn’t particularly want to get wet.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Undressing,” he replied. “I suggest you do the same, unless you want to catch a cold. In fact, I insist you remove that nightgown and hang it up over this screen here, then jump into bed.”

“What do you mean to do?” she queried nervously.

“Convince you to change your mind. I still mean to marry you, my love.”

“But—”

“Are you going to take off that wet nightgown, or do I have to do it for you?”

She scuttled back toward the bed. He half expected her to leap in and pull the covers over her head like a child.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

She did. He quickly pulled his shirt over his head and ran his hands through his hair. Trapping her gaze, he said gently, “I’m not going to hurt you. I love you and would never deliberately hurt you. But you’ve been so blind, so damn stubborn. The specter of your dead husband has blighted your life, and it’s time to exorcise him. Or at least to begin the process. I’m going to get into that bed with you now so I can just hold you, and I’d prefer you to be dry and warm when I do. So, take off your wet nightgown. Please.”

He watched her face and saw the conflict raging in her eyes.

“I can see you overanalyzing, overthinking it, Clara. Stop thinking. Use your heart, not your head. All I ask for now is to hold you.”

His hand hovered by the top buttons on his breeches. With a squeak, she darted to the bed, turned her back to him, and dragged off her nightgown. Then she curled up in a tiny, awkward ball, facing the wall with the covers up to her ears.

“Isn’t it better to face your enemy than turn your back on him?” he chided.

Slowly, she turned and peeped over the top of the covers.

He stood completely naked in front of her, but kept his body under rigid control. He had a point to make, and letting desire get the better of him was not part of his plan.

She was definitely looking at him with a glint of appreciation in her eye. Good. It was important that she liked what she saw.

“It’s good to see you smile,” he said. “At least, I hope that’s a smile and not a derisive smirk.”

Her lips tightened. “Is this really necessary?”

“Oh, I’m in deadly earnest. Clearly, I have compromised and disgraced you by being here, so you’ll have to marry me. However, I’d hoped to win your consent without putting you under such pressure.”

“You can’t possibly want—”

He was proud of how certain he sounded. “Clara,” he said, placing one knee on the bed and holding her gaze. “I’m not at all like Simon. I can contain my carnal urges, and other urges, too. I’ve been brought up to avoid drunkenness, debauchery, and gambling, and the ghost of my father would punish me horribly if I ever gave in to these weaknesses. With me, you begin again. I want to give you the marriage you should have had, the marriage you have always deserved. And I shall ask for nothing more than you do your public duty as Duchess of Ulvercombe. I can’t think of any other woman of my acquaintance more deserving of, or better suited to, that title.”

She shuttled back against the wall again, facing away from him.

Sighing, he pushed his legs under the covers and settled himself down behind her. The bed was old and narrow, the stuffing of the mattress in dire need of replenishment. As soon as he rested his entire weight upon the edge of it, the mattress tipped down, rolling her body toward his, where he met it greedily, snaking one arm over the curve of her waist and settling his hand against her stomach.

His legs pressed against the backs of hers, and her shoulders grazed his chest. He bent his body so his hips and belly were not touching her—there was no point in being harder on himself than need be.

“Now,” he said quietly. “We talk.”

“Like this?”

“We are both in our raw and natural state, as God made us. I don’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed, either of your body or of mine. It’s time to put a stop to all this self-doubt, my love. I never had the opportunity to tell you, after those stolen moments in the study at Wroxham, what a wonderful experience it was for me.”

She was quiet for a moment, then whispered, “It was?”

“Most assuredly. And each time will be better than the last, once we’re married. My body has never wanted a woman as much as I want you, nor has my heart. You are a beautiful, desirable woman, Clara Tinniswood, and, yes, I want to make love to you until I collapse from exhaustion. But that’s only a small part of the picture. We also need to be completely in harmony with our minds.”