The Accidental Duke (The Mad Matchmaking Men of Waterloo Book 1) by Devlin, Barbara (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📕

heretofore-vaunted self-control and thoroughly seducing his wife. He could only imagine what she thought of him, in the wake of his rakish behavior, and he vowed to endure, without complaint, whatever redress she delivered. Just then, Arabella roused, and he girded himself to withstand the consequences of his actions, which he more than deserved.

“Hmm.” Her eyelids fluttered and lifted. When she spotted him, she smiled. She smiled. “Good morning, my lord,” she said in a breathy voice that set him on his heels, because he expected hysterics. Recriminations. A candlestick lobbed at his head. “How are you on this glorious day?”

“Er—fine.” Of course, he was better than fine after a night spent in her arms, but hers was not the reaction he anticipated. Still, he tensed and prepared to pose a question guaranteed to incite his lady, and it was nothing less than he deserved, given his bawdy conduct. “And you?”

“I’m wonderful.” Her reply came to him, as if from afar, and echoed in his ears. Yet, she showed no hint of fear or anger. Rather, his bride appeared…euphoric. That couldn’t have been right. He must’ve been mistaken, and he believed that, until she patted the space beside her and pouted. “What are you doing over there, my lord? It is chilly, and we could be so much warmer, together, beneath the covers. Will you not cuddle with me?”

“Are you sure you are well?” He scratched the back of his neck and shook his head. Then he glanced about the room, to be sure he was cognizant of the situation. “Given what occurred, I thought you might be quite put out, and I would understand, because I did not behave as would a gentleman. I brought shame to myself and my family, and I am so sorry, Arabella. I have no excuse, but I promise I will make amends.”

“Why should I be put out? And amends for—what?” She giggled. She actually giggled and wagged a finger. “My lord, you were incapacitated. It is true, you were no gentleman, but neither were you yourself, and I believe the state of our affairs necessitated something else, entirely. Oh, you were a naughty boy.”

“Precisely.” It must have been shock, because he took a gently bred virgin like a seasoned courtesan, and that was no way to ease an unbroken mare into harness. He acted in a reprehensible manner, and he owed her an apology and so much more. “I took liberties.”

“How so, when we are married? Are our actions not government sanctioned?” Clutching the sheet to her bosom, she closed her eyes and dropped back her head. “Besides, you were overwrought. The storm triggered another episode, and I needed to calm you.”

“Ah, yes. I remember naught but bits and pieces.” Memories flooded his mind, and salacious images flashed before him. Tangled legs. Breathy sighs. Tender kisses. Despite his efforts to manage his arousal, his body ached for her. “That is no excuse.”

“It is to me.” She sat upright and met his stare. “You were hurting, and I will not stand idly by while you suffer. Not now. Not ever. It was within my means to provide relief, as would any wife, and it is not as if you forced me to do something against my will. I assure you, I gave myself to you of my own volition. Indeed, I provoked you, on purpose. I would argue it was my duty to submit, to consummate our union as well as offer comfort, but it was also my pleasure.”

“Your pleasure?” Again, she stunned him, and he blinked. “You mean to say you enjoyed it?”

“Well, it was a tad rough the first time—”

“The first time?” He sifted through the remnants of his memories from last night, much of which remained a haze. “We did it more than once?”

“Oh, I should say so, my wicked lord, but it is disappointing that you do not recall it, because it was unforgettable for me.” She shrugged and hummed a flirty ditty. “And you more than redeemed yourself on the second and third rounds of coitus. I may require a nap, today, because I slept little thanks to your connubial games, although that is not a complaint.”

“Indeed?” She could have knocked him over with a feather, and he wondered if he was locked in a dream. A crazed but fanciful dream no sane husband would ever conjure. “So, you liked it?”

“More than liked it.” The expression on her face left him in no doubt of her sincerity. “It far surpassed my expectations, which I thought reasonable and sound, because I based my suppositions on what I read about physical intimacy. But I am convinced the so-called experts pose ill-informed conclusions based on little if any practical knowledge.”

Anthony could only laugh at her charming assertions, however naïve.

“Then you are not traumatized, and I am forgiven?” He pondered the circumstances and sighed. “Even though we should have waited?”

“I am not traumatized, and there is nothing to forgive.” Arabella tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear and furrowed her brow. “Whether or not you realize it, you are not to blame for what happened, because I could have stopped you, but I didn’t want to stop you. I could not bear your suffering, and I needed to be close to you. If you recall, my efforts proved efficient in Papa’s study, the night our engagement was announced.”

“Yes, but I didn’t claim your bride’s prize then.” Yet, it was too late to undo his actions, but he suspected there would be hell to pay, in the end. “Regardless of intent, we may have given my father exactly what he wants.”

“Then the fault is mine to own, because you were not fully compos mentis.” She frowned. “I had to do something, given your shouts of alarm, which could have summoned Shaw and his villains. We know not how they would have responded to your episode of nostalgia, although I’d wager it would not have been good, and I was not willing to take