Page 44 of Kathryn

“Who says I can’t?” His eyes glittered darkly.

Katie felt a stirring of alarm and something else, too. Something she had no word for. Something that left her hot and confused. “I b-beg your pardon?” she asked uncertainly.

He merely stared, the hard curve of his mouth not just stern, but… wicked?

No, that could not be.

Could it?

She shook herself, furious at feeling so wrong-footed. “You needn’t worry about me polluting your library. I will purchase my own books and keep them—”

“Must you dispute every order I give you?”

“Must you give orders every time you speak to me?”

His lips parted but then he closed his mouth. It was the first sign of uncertainty she had ever seen him exhibit. A nerve jumped in his temple as he stared down at her. “You are tired,” he finally said. “I will leave you to your rest. Goodnight.” He turned to go, and Katie’s hand—as if it had suddenly grown a mind of its own—shot out and closed around an arm that was as hard as a tree trunk.

Dulverton stiffened and glared down at her fingers.

Katie jerked her hand back, scalded by his disdain. As much as she would have liked to chuck him out her bedroom window, she did not want their wedding night hanging over her head for yet another day. “Are—are—will you come to me later?” she asked, loathing her breathy voice.

“No. You have had a long day, and we are leaving very early in the morning.”

“I would rather not wait.” Katie could not believe the words coming out of her mouth.

Either could Dulverton, who looked visibly startled.

“What?” she demanded, goaded by the look of whatever she saw on his face. “I want to get this over with.” Katie bit her tongue, wishing she had phrased that more diplomatically. “I just meant—”

“I see,” he said icily. Some emotion—Katie did not know what—flickered in his gaze, reminding her that he was not, after all, made of stone.

“I’m sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean that the way—”

“Get on the bed.”

Katie flinched at his curt command.

“Do you wish me to stay?” he asked sharply, his face hard and unyielding. “Or shall I leave?”

“No, stay,” she blurted, for once entranced rather than irked by his autocratic behavior.

“Then get on the bed,” he snapped, his eyes stormy. “The sooner you do; the sooner we can get this over with.”

Chapter Twelve

Dulverton held her gaze until Katie backed toward the bed and stumbled up the three steps to the high mattress, perching on the edge to watch.

He turned away from the bed and strode to one of the two identical chairs that faced the fireplace and sat, his huge body dwarfing the delicate piece of furniture.

Moving with graceful economy he pulled off one Hessian and then the next, setting his boots neatly beside the leg of the chair before standing and unbuttoning his coat and tugging off his cravat. Once he’d neatly folded both garments and set them on the chair, he pivoted toward the bed and caught her staring. “Lie down.”

Katie clumsily swung her feet onto the mattress and stretched out on her back, twitching her nightgown so that she was modestly covered.

Still clothed in stockings, pantaloons, shirt, and waistcoat, Dulverton climbed onto the bed, kneeling high as he stared down at her. “Lift your skirts.” His eyes sent a chill shivering through her.

Katie jolted at his abrupt command and glanced at the candles on the bedside table. “Aren’t you going to snuff—”

“No. Lift your nightgown,” he repeated.