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It was entirely bold, asking to sit on her husband’s lap. Alaric didn’t answer, which bothered her, but she did it anyway.

Thankfully, he didn’t push her away. Instead, he rested his arm around her waist, which made her feel emboldened.

Don’t be afraid, she told herself.

‘You said to me, a few weeks ago, that we should get better acquainted. Physically.’ Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

Alaric said nothing, nor did he move. The silence felt terribly awkward, and she wondered if she ought to stand up and return to her side of the settee. But then his hand moved up her spine to her nape. ‘I did say that, didn’t I?’

The touch of his palm against the thin fabric of her nightgown was a heat that sank deeply into her skin. She rested her cheek against his heart, and his hand moved to her cheek.

‘I haven’t done my part at all,’ she admitted. ‘I apologise.’

‘We’ve both been busy.’ He slid his fingers into her hair, stroking her temple. For a moment, she simply savoured the touch. Her breathing grew unsteady with the sudden intensity that flooded through her.

And she revealed the mistletoe that she’d retrieved. ‘Do you…want to kiss me?’

He hesitated, making her wish she’d never asked. But then he took the berries from her and slid them down over the bodice of her nightgown to the curve of her breast.

Her nipple grew erect against the mistletoe berries and the barest touch of his fingers, aching as the intimate contact echoed between her legs. Beneath her lap, she could feel his body responding to her, hard against the softness of her bottom. The length of him pressed against her, and when he lowered his mouth to her throat, her skin erupted with goosebumps.

He continued sliding the mistletoe over the fine lawn of the nightgown covering her breast, and shivers ran over her body—along with such heat and growing need.

Charlotte shifted against him, feeling restless as his body tempted her. She threaded her fingers in his hair, daring to touch him. An unfamiliar ache took hold, and his mouth grazed from her throat to her cheek.

But still, he wouldn’t kiss her mouth.

Beneath her nightgown, both breasts were hardened into tight peaks, and her breathing quickened as he dropped the mistletoe and circled one bud, then the other with his thumbs. She was too afraid to move, too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her. She…wanted her husband.

But when she tried to move her mouth to his, he pulled back at last. His own breathing was shaky as he set her back on the settee. ‘This is…probably not the best time or place for this. The servants will be up soon.’

‘You’re right,’ she whispered. Disappointment cloaked her, but she didn’t say a word.

She wanted so much more from Alaric. It was as if she craved affection, needed it in the way she needed air to breathe. And although he was right—this wasn’t the time or place—regret settled within her.

Her heart hammered in her chest, but she forced herself to ask, ‘Tonight then?’

‘I suppose it’s time.’

The words weren’t reassuring—instead, he made it sound like a duty instead of a desire. She regretted bringing it up.

Then Alaric stood from the settee and regarded her. ‘You should go back to sleep.’

For a moment, she almost wanted to ask if she could sleep with him, in his bed. The thought of being surrounded by his warmth, feeling his body so close, was enough to bring back the deep ache between her legs.

But a moment later, he turned away and left her sitting there alone. And the loneliness immediately crept back in.

Alaric’s mood darkened as he closed his bedroom door behind him. He was rigid with need, and it wouldn’t have taken much to convince him to press his new wife down and take her right there upon the settee.

But Charlotte was a virgin—and he was supposed to have feelings for someone else.

Though he knew he owed Lenora nothing, he couldn’t quite push back the guilt. They had never been lovers, but he’d kissed her before. He’d wanted Lenora, though he’d known that she would only surrender herself within a marriage.

It infuriated him that he’d gone from wanting her to wanting Charlotte so badly, in the space of just a few weeks. How was that even possible? It made it seem as if his feelings for Lenora had been shallow, not real at all. And truthfully, the desire he’d known with her was nothing compared with the raw need coursing through him now. His body was rock-hard, aching for release.

Was all of this because Charlotte was now his wife, and he was obligated to consummate the marriage? Or was it her own desirability? Possibly both.

Alaric removed his clothing and returned to his bed, the annoyance rising in him. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching down to his erection, curling his hand over it and squeezing. Pleasure rippled through him, and as he moved his hand, he was strongly aware of the woman he wasn’t supposed to crave.