But he didn’t shake her hand. Instead, he wrapped his long fingers—too warm, given that he wasn’t even wearing a proper set of gloves—around her wrist and used the leverage to tug her closer, pulling her against his chest until she had to reach out her free hand to support herself. It landed on him, and she felt sure that she could feel the racing thunder of his heart.
She gazed up at him, knowing that her eyes had gone wide, that they likely made her look like any naïve chit barely out of the schoolroom, not a woman of six and twenty. But she couldn’t help it. She was simply that shocked.
She was even more shocked when he bent down, slowly tracing the tip of his nose over her cheek, then moving across so that his lips gently caressed the delicate shell of her ear as he whispered to her.
“Tell me, Phoebe,” he asked, and God, it was all she could do not to gasp when he said her name, “does this feel cold to you?”
He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye—though she didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped down to her mouth again, a flash of a hint that didn’t prepare her nearly enough?—
And then he kissed her.
It was immediately unlike the kiss they had shared previously. If that one had been a snapping of restraint, this one was a binding—a pledge, a vow, linking them together as powerful as any words spoken on an altar. Phoebe gasped, all instinct, and the Duke pulled her even tighter against him, banding an arm around her waist and pulling her inward and upward until she was barely balancing on her tiptoes. She threw her arms around his neck to keep her balance.
God, he wasstrong. It made sense—of course, it did—for the rugged soldier of a duke to be as formidable as he looked,but Phoebe was still thrilled with the intimacy of feeling that strength for herself.
His tongue, hot and wet and fascinating, probed gently against her bottom lip, and Phoebe opened eagerly to him, giddy with the influence of his kiss. Was she really allowed to have this now? Was this really just the beginning?
She let herself explore, her tongue mimicking his movements, touching against his lower lip. She sucked in a delighted breath when he growled into her mouth and his fingers clenched into his side.
Was this what it felt like to do her duty?she wondered hysterically. She’d always thought it would feel—well, she couldn’t think properly, but she hadn’t thought it would be as good as this. What could be as good as this?
He bit lightly at her lower lip.
Oh.
Yes.
That was—that was as good.
She pulled her arms tighter around his neck, the motion pressing her breasts against his chest. Oh, God, she’d never noticed her breasts like this before, but now, she felt a wild heatrising in her, one that made her want to press closer and closer to him.
A little whimpering moan came out of her, and his fingers clenched again, leaving little points of bruising sensation on her that somehow felt incredible.
“Jesus Christ, Phoebe,” he muttered, not pulling his mouth away from hers to do so. He sounded desperate, and Phoebe thrilled at that, too. She wanted to know what she could do to make that desperation grow. Could she cause his control to snap entirely?
She wanted more of it. More ofhim. She wanted—she wantedeverything.
“Yes,” she breathed into his mouth, then, on impulse, she licked his lower lip.
He bit her lip in return. It stung. It felt incredible.
Curiosity had always been her greatest strength, except for the times that it was her greatest weakness. It remained to be seen whether this instance would prove the work of angels or the devil himself.
“More,” she urged, grabbing a fistful of his hair and using it to tug him down. He—stubborn creature that he was—gave her what she wanted, though not in the way she’d intended it. Instead, he banded his other arm under her rear and used his leverage to heft her up, maneuvering them until she was pressedwith her back against one of the posts of the gazebo, every inch of her front plastered against him. There were skirts in the way, of course, and her cloak, not to mention all his clothing. Phoebe was far too overwhelmed to actually count the number of layers between them.
Too bloody many.
But when she hitched a leg around his waist, she felt a surge of heat low in her stomach, anyway. Her breath came in shuddering little gasps.
“You’re greedy, then, wife?” he asked, and though she wanted to argue that shewasn’this wife, not yet, the words died before they reached her lips.
They’d agreed. They’d chosen. And what was a marriage if not those things?
Sealed with a kiss as well.
“I have many fine qualities,” she said instead, squeezing the words between kisses. “You could spend your whole day trying to list them all if you tried.”
And at that, she got the very first real laugh out of him.
