Page 23 of The Duke of My Desire

Stubborn man, Justina thought as she headed up the stairs towards the private parlor behind Gregory and the innkeeper’s wife, Mrs. Landry, a slender woman with bright red hair and freckles on her cheeks.

The next hour was an enjoyable one, with just the two of them in the room, eating their meat and potato pies and sharing light conversation about nothing and everything.

Whatever had been troubling Gregory earlier seemed to have passed, and Justina was grateful for that. She didn’t relish the idea of taking him to task, but she would have if his mood had not improved, never mind that he was duke.

After they’d eaten their fill, they retired to their chamber, which was clean but sparsely furnished with a bed, a dressing screen, a sturdy oak armoire, and⁠—

She stilled as her gaze fell on what must have been the oldest, spindliest, saddest cot in all of England. Possibly the entire kingdom.

Battling a smile, she stole a glance at Gregory to see if he’d noticed it yet and found him staring at it with a comical mixture of disbelief and doubt.

“Well, it’s a good thing you were able to nap in the carriage today,” she said brightly. “I have a feeling it is going to be another sleepless night for you.”

He pursed his lips for a moment then approached the cot and gave it an experimental wiggle with one hand. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

She was sure he was not sure at all, but she said nothing more on the subject.

Her valise was waiting for her on the bed, so she pulled out her nightrail and dressing gown then slipped behind the dressing screen in the corner to change.

Silence settled over the room, comfortable but nearly absolute, save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the rustling of silk and cotton as she dressed for bed.

When she emerged from behind the screen a few minutes later, she found Gregory at the wash basin, scrubbing his hands and face with soap and water. He’d removed his coat and cravat and wore only his waistcoat and white lawn shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

This was her first glimpse of his bare arms, skin and muscle which was normally concealed by clothing, and the sight of it—the shock of it—had her gaping at him like a simpleton.

A lustful simpleton.

She swallowed hard as yearning swept over her, spiking her pulse and urging her to go to him, to slide her palms up those naked forearms, wrap them around her waist and give him a long, thorough kiss that would leave no doubt as to what she wished to do this evening.

A shuddering breath slipped from her lips, drawing his gaze to hers, and she quickly looked away and headed for the bed, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Lord above, Justina, they’re only arms.

But as she slipped beneath the covers, she couldn’t help stealing glances at him from beneath her lashes, admiring his strength and masculine elegance.

Good gracious, she was behaving like a girl in the throes of her first infatuation.

She closed her eyes and tugged the coverlet up to her chin, listening to the fire crackling and water splashing, trying to think of something besides her growing attraction for the man in the room with her.

Gregory’s low chuckle filled the silence, and she opened her eyes to look at him. “What is so amusing?” she asked.

He turned to face her, drying his hands with a length of linen, a smile curling his lips. “I was thinking of something you said during dinner. Did you and your siblings truly have a pea war at the dinner table?”

She smiled. “Oh, yes. More than once, in fact.”

“Who initiated these battles? Your brother?”

She gave a little laughing snort. “No. Never. John was the only boy, but he was always better behaved than me and my sister. He required a little encouragement to be naughty.”

Gregory grinned. “And I suppose you needed no encouragement at all?”

She arched one brow. “None whatsoever.”

She’d had a happy childhood, growing up with her older siblings in their old, rambling estate in Essex. She was the youngest child, Lizzie born two years before her and John a year before that, but despite the difference in their age and gender, the trio were inseparable.

Until they weren’t.

John went off to school at the age of thirteen and things were never the same after that. They all grew up and married and now Justina rarely saw either of her siblings. Such was life, she supposed. But sometimes she did miss the bond they used to share.