"Mine," Catherine agreed contentedly, nestling against his chest.
Later, as they lay tangled together, Catherine traced lazy patterns on his chest.
"We shocked Lord Pemberton," she said.
"Did we?"
"When you kissed me in front of him. Properly kissed me. Not a polite peck."
"He's been married six months. He should understand."
"I don't think his marriage is quite like ours."
"No?"
"His wife asked me if it was normal that her husband only visits her bedchamber on Wednesdays and Saturdays."
James laughed. "What did you say?"
"I told her that you haven't spent a night away from our bed since our wedding."
"Catherine! You didn't."
"I did. The poor thing looked ready to faint. Then she asked if that was... proper."
"And?"
"I told her propriety is overrated."
"My scandalous duchess." He pulled her closer. "What would society say if they knew?"
"They already whisper about us. How we can't keep our hands off each other. How you look at me like you want to devour me."
"I do want to devour you. Frequently."
"How I look at you the same way."
"Do you?"
"James." She shifted to look at him properly. "I've wanted you every single day since that night at the inn. First with guilt, then with longing, then with frustrated propriety, and now..."
"Now?"
"Now with joy. With freedom. With the knowledge that I can have you whenever I want."
"And do you want?"
By way of answer, she kissed him, deep and slow and full of promise.
"Again?" he asked when they parted. "Catherine, we just..."
"We have all night," she reminded him. "And you did tell the servants not to disturb us."
"I'm creating a monster."
"You're loving every moment of it."
"Heaven help me, I am."
