CHAPTER11
Verity’s body’s reaction was immediate, intense. Her heart fluttered, and a whisper of want hooked into her heart and stayed. “How would you know of my terrible sleeping habits?”
“I watched you this morning, tempted beyond measure to slide between the sheets and take you into my arms.”
Verity made a small, indelicate noise. “Why didn’t you?”
“You looked quite lovely sleeping. Peaceful. That should not be so easily disturbed.”
Her heart swelled with a peculiar tenderness. “You could have simply slept beside me.”
“A diverting thought, I have never slept beside another.”
“Never? You’ve had lovers.”
A rough chuckle escaped him. “Yes. Always mutual rough-and-tumble fun, but nothing where…we lingered, simply to be in each other’s presence.”
“Not even with your mistress?” she asked, a devilish urge riding her.
“A duke does not talk to his duchess about past or present mistresses.”
She grabbed tuffs of his hair and pulled. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace, past and what?”
He chuckled. “I assure you, my duchess, only past.”
She smoothed her fingers in his hair and dipped her head slightly. “Verity and Ethan can talk about anything.”
Another smile formed against her knee, and she wished she could see the curve of his mouth and the beauty of his smile.
“Very well. I never spent the night with my mistress. I was always too eager to paint the night on the town in my illicit pursuits with my cronies. I was the consummate rakehell, an heir to a wealthy dukedom. I had power and friends who seemed to admire me because of my status. I had courtesans, married ladies, and debutantes falling at my feet and climbing into my bed. Life was alive with frivolity and little purpose, and no diversion could capture my attention for very long.”
He spoke without emotions, almost with boredom.
“Do you miss that life?”
“Never.”
His voice echoed with an implacability that ensured she believed him.
His fingers tightened briefly on her knees. “I am no longer that man, and have not been since my father died and I claimed the title.”
“When did he die?” Verity was curious, for even now, the scandal sheets thought it fit to remind the ton they had a Devil Duke, and reminisce on his past escapades.
“Three days after Lord Preston.”
Good heavens. Having dealt such severe blows in days would have altered even the most reckless soul. Grief and pain had reshaped him, and with an aching heart, Verity wished to know every aspect of the man before her. “I am so very sorry, Ethan.”
“You had no hand in it. There is no reason to be sorry,” he said, with a touch of icy disdain.
He was retreating, and not wanting him to go, she cupped his jaw and brushed her mouth against it. It was a kiss, if this mere touch could be called so, but they both froze at the contact, and Verity swore she felt his heartbeat as her own.
“I will insist you start sleeping beside me,” she said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Every night. When you feel restless and then need to…beat your sandbag, perhaps you might wake me, and I shall keep your company.”
“Are you offering to beat the bag with me, Wife?”
She laughed. “No. But perhaps we might retire to the library, read together, play chess, or this…” This time she pressed her mouth more firmly to his.
His lips were warm and firm, dissolving her hesitancy in a wave of honeyed heat. She flicked her tongue out, teasing the edges of his mouth. He growled his approval and parted his lips slightly. Verity slid her tongue into his mouth, a shallow, teasing glide. She gasped, surprised by the sudden pleasure. His groan trembled through her body, and her nipples beaded into tight, aching knots.