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His laughter rang out from under the shirt. “In one night? ’Tis beyond my power, even if my duchess commands.”

The shirt came up and flew to the side, but Viola was too distracted to track its flight. Fascinated by golden skin and a taut shape that made her stomach curl, she took a step toward Devin.

And stopped, finding that her hands were hovering. She tipped back her head and looked up. “May I?”

“As you wish,” Devin said, his voice thick with desire.

Anxiety and desire clenched her throat, so she just nodded and put her palms on his warm skin. Beneath her hands was potent masculine strength, her fingertips teased by short golden hairs, hardly visible except where the sun struck them.

“Why is your body hair golden and the hair on your head dark?” she asked, trying to steady her voice because her knees were shaking.

He shrugged, which moved the finely chiseled muscles marching down to his waistband. She slid her hands down, loving the way the muscles bunched to meet her palms. He made a sound in the back of his throat, like a small growl.

“I didn’t know that men have nipples,” Viola said, looking back up at his eyes. “Unnecessary, don’t you think?”

“They can be a source of pleasure,” Devin said, his voice velvety with desire.

She felt herself coloring again. She took her hands down and fell back a step. “This is embarrassing.”

Devin turned and she watched him walk toward the small table on the other side of the room, set with a blue cloth and matching dishes. He poured glasses of champagne and returned, seeming not to notice that she was frozen in place, like a silly rabbit in the snow.

“Let’s drink to our marriage, shall we? Are you hungry?”

“No.” She took the glass. Her fingers brushed his and she felt the shock of it down her legs. Instinctively she met his eyes and knew that he felt the same.

He raised his glass with a lopsided smile. “Do you know how lucky we are? Many couples feel nothing but trepidation, whereas I feel the opposite.” He took a swallow. “Would you like me—or a maid—to help you out of your gown, Viola?”

“Yes,” Viola said, firming her mouth. “You, please.”

He didn’t say anything, but she saw his eyes lighten with naked desire. That, more than anything, steadied her nerves. He wasn’t entirely composed either.

She lifted her arms and started pulling out hairpins. She had worn her hair in loops and curls, and her mother had dictated no powder . . . a choice she now understood.

“I’ll help.” A long stride put him at her side. He pulled out a hairpin. “There are tiny silk roses on each pin. I didn’t see that.”

“Lavinia,” Viola said. “She takes great delight in dressing all of us. She adored this sudden wedding.” She tipped back her head to see his face. “I must warn you that I will be a frightfully expensive duchess since she will want to dress me, but if I ever spend too much, you must tell me. I can rein her in.”

He shook his head. “Lavinia—if I may refer to her as such—is a genius.”

His hands skimmed her head as if butterflies were gently touching her. With a silky swoosh, her hair unwrapped and fell down her back. He made an inarticulate sound that made her smile.

Devin pulled the last few hairpins while she gathered chestnut locks and pushed them behind her shoulders.

“The gown itself comes off first. It’s pinned to the sides of my bodice.”

He stilled for a moment, and his nimble fingers brushed her collarbone. “I like this gown.”

“I thought it was slate blue,” she said, starting to pull out the pins that held it to her stomacher, “but Lavinia says it’s robin’s egg blue.” Viola made herself stop, because she was prone to chattering from nerves.

“I think it’s the color of juniper berries,” Devin said, somewhat surprisingly. A moment later he carefully drew the gown away and draped it over a chair. “The stomacher next?”

“No, the gown petticoat,” Viola said, putting her fichu to the side and untying the bows that held on her petticoat. There was a swish as folds of blue silk relaxed to the floor. She stepped forward, out of the puddled cloth, and turned to face Devin, chin high.

“Now the stomacher.” She began pulling pins from the stiffened triangle of embroidered fabric. “And then the panniers.”

Devin gave her a fascinated smile. “I feel as if I am unwrapping a present,” he said, once the panniers were off. He began working on the back lacing of her stays.

It had taken two maids a good hour to dress her this morning; Devin was much faster, perhaps because he had more ambition.