Free The Third Duke's the Charm by Emma Wildes

misunderstand, but he didn’t. They’d known each other long enough it wasn’t necessary. “I’m understandably concerned about the feelings of my bride.”
    “Why
are
you marrying her anyway?”
    “Because I wish to.”
    “Oh, please.”
    Her derision made him slightly tighten his hands around his glass. Was this what Vivian had endured for four years? he wondered.
    “That’s impossible?”
    “That’s impossible for
you
.”
    “What if I point out you’ve never understood me all that well?
    “May
I
point out that you are becoming uncharacteristically irritated?”
    He took in a breath and leveled a penetrating look in her direction. Carefully, he spread his hands on his desk, noting that the papers he’d been working on were still sitting there, unread and unsigned. “May I ask again if there is a purpose to this visit?”
    “I suppose I just want to know . . . why?”
    So she could whisper it to all of London? Lucien debated his answer because, quite frankly, whatever he did next, even if it was just to send Catherine off, would be repeated and interpreted and twisted to whatever story might prove to be most titillating at the moment. “I find her interesting,” he said in the end, which was perfectly true. He found Vivian very interesting indeed. “She is attractive and intelligent but without pretention.”
    “Attractive?” Catherine’s fine brows rose, but then she said grudgingly, “I suppose she is pretty enough if one can get past those horrid gowns and her lack of a bosom.”
    Thanks to that accidental episode where he had stumbled across that impromptu swimming race across the lake, he could attest she had a very shapely bosom indeed. It wouldn’t do to point it out to Catherine, who flaunted her breasts at every opportunity, that she was a bit overblown for his tastes. “Apparently I can.”
    “That is what you want in a woman? No pretention? Forgive me, darling, but I still cannot see her as a duchess one day.”
    “Since I wish my father a long life, I am not going to worry over that at this time.”
    “Or a marchioness either.”
    “Yet she soon will be.”
    There was a moment when Catherine contemplated him as if they’d never met before, but then she laughed, though her eyes still held a tinge of resentment. “I think you really mean it.”

Chapter Six
    Charles rolled over, encountered a warm female form, and pulled her closer into the protective circle of his arms, his mind absently registering the sound of rain.
    Again.
    Did it rain in Scotland all the time? Not that it mattered, for he’d rather stay in bed anyway, but the weather was appalling, or else he’d maybe just taken this journey at the wrong time of year.
    But yet it was impossible to feel it had been a mistake. Maybe not the most opportune time of the season, but definitely
not
a mistake.
    “Are you awake?” He nuzzled his wife’s nape, lifting her pale hair to give him better access to her smooth skin.
    “You are,” she said in a soft, amused tone. “That is unmistakable.”
    It was true, the press of his erection nestled against her bottom, one of his hands slipping up her ribcage to cup her breast. He nibbled on her earlobe. “Uhm. I am indeed.”
    “Are all men . . . ravenous so early?” she asked, turning in his arms, her eyes luminous in the slanted rays of dawn coming through the rain-streaked window.
    He had to grin. “Ravenous? How true. And how the devil would I know, as I haven’t slept with any. But I am certainly hungry for you. Now then”—he deftly parted her thighs with his knees and adjusted his position—“shall I demonstrate how much?”
    This was still their honeymoon and he entered her slowly, careful to not be too demanding, too impetuous, and the leisure was perfect for a rainy morning.The soft sigh in his ear and her yielding body told him she was ready. Charles kissed her before he started to move, the gesture not passionate so much as an indication of his deep