Page 44 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

Simon had spent years hiding that truth from the world. It was a miracle he had lasted through the ceremony. He didn’t need a reminder of what the night promised. Ravenna in his arms, his bed. His lover and confidante. His to please. Discovering the vulnerable places of her body no one had ever touched. Soon he would be inside her.

He would manage without any guidance. A man needed no script to do what came as second nature. And he had never professed to be anything but the flawed and prideful person that Society took him to be. He was a duke and until today his personal desires had been no one else’s business. Soon he would share his deepest self with his wife.

He shook his head, unsure as to how he could explain this to her brother. Or that he should. “You know that I care about her.”

“Yes. Show her. Tell her.”

“I will.”

“I draw the line at giving advice on how to seduce my sister. Just -- try not to scowl all the time. It’s an effective look to stop an opponent in his tracks, but I can’t imagine it would encourage one’s bride.”

“Encourage her to do what?” Simon inquired, enjoying the chance to turn the tables on the scamp.

“How dare you ask me such an impudent question?” Rhys said, not quite managing to look offended.

“She’ll be in good hands. I will hover over her like a hawk.”

“That is not a comforting image,” Rhys said. “I picture you swooping down from the sky to capture a small raven in your claws.”

Simon fought the urge to laugh. “I plan to romance my duchess, Rhys, not chase her about our bedchamber like a bird of prey.” Unless, he added silently, she wanted him to chase her. He would not rule out anything when it came to pleasing Ravenna. “Do not fret about us tonight,” he added. “I assure you that neither of us will be thinking of you.”

The wedding receptionwas about to become a deception.

It was a ruse that Heath had suggested. The senior footman ushered the newlyweds from the receiving room to an antechamber off the chapel. There husband and wife changed from their formal clothing into modest apparel. Ravenna was only momentarily disappointed that she would not wear her costly new gown. Her family had no qualms about abetting this bid for secrecy. The Boscastles rarely withheld their backing from a passionate cause once a commitment had been made.

Covert measures were a necessary precaution against any malefactors who might hope to take advantage of the bridal couple’s distraction. It was an ideal time for an enemy to appear. Not to mention people inclined to prying.

A shabby service coach conveyed the duke and his wife at a lumbering pace toward Simon’s North Audley Street residence. The driver turned onto Curzon Street and meandered a while before he changed course to Grosvenor Square. This circuitous flight succeeded with nary a soul outside the family circle aware that Simon and his bride had tricked Society.

“Usually, it’s a short drive from Park Lane,” Simon assured Ravenna over the creaking of the undercarriage. “In fact, we’d have been quicker walking, although not safer.”

The champagne bottle that Jane had gifted them nearly flew out of his hand as the wheels encountered a giant pothole. He threw out his other hand to save Ravenna from a spill. “Well, perhaps not. We could still end up walking if we lose a wheel. This isn’t how I pictured bringing you home.”

She clung to the strap, her curvaceous form pleasantly crushed to his. “It’s rather fun.”

Simon had an altogether different idea of fun, but he wasn’t about to darken the mood. “You deserve a fairy-tale coach.”

She subsided against his shoulder. “You’ll bring out Grayson’s competitive spirit. He used to be quite the whip, racing about London in his phaeton when he was younger. Now he has his hands full with family affairs.”

“I trust you won’t cause him further worry.”

“Do you find me worrisome?”

His broad jaw brushed her cheek. “I do, indeed. It’s a responsibility I welcome with my entire heart.”

“I shall strive to contain myself,” she said insincerely, her breasts pressing against his waistcoat.

“But perhaps not when we’re alone like this.”

“I saw Rhys whisper to you at the wedding,” she said, angling her shoulder so that they fitted together like two halves of a heart locket. “Was it important?”

“Yes. He is afraid to relinquish you to the aloof duke. Am I ferocious-looking?”

“Sometimes. But that’s the least of our concerns, isn’t it?”

He restrained the urge to ply her with kisses and champagne. The coach had turned a familiar corner. She tilted from his reach. “We’re home,” he said in relief. “I don’t think we were followed.”

“As if we were spies, Simon,” she mused, peering out the window. “All this secrecy. There isn’t a single light in the house anywhere that I can see. Is such subterfuge necessary?”