‘Surely that is something any new bride might expect?’
‘Expect, perhaps,’ he said ruefully. ‘But never be truthfully assured of.’
She raised a sarcastic brow. ‘In that case I should no doubt consider myself fortunate that you feel able to offer me such assurances.’
Once again Darius was tempted to lift her skirts and paddle her bottom until she screamed for mercy. After which he would enjoy nothing more than making love to her until they were both thoroughly satisfied!
She was a little madam. A minx. And he found her completely enchanting. She was a temptress who had occupied far too many of his waking thoughts—and his dreams—this past week.
Perhaps if she had not Darius might have been more on his guard yesterday. More expectant regarding the sabotage of their coach…
He would not relax his guard again until they were safely ensconced at Winton Hall. Once there, he had the necessary security in place to ensure Arabella’s safety at least.
Darius’s expression hardened as he once again regretted that he had allowed himself to be beguiled into marrying her. By doing so he had brought her into the web of deceit and danger that had necessarily become his own life these past eight years.
He would not have been so tempted beyond resistance if Arabella were not so beautiful. So delectable. So spirited. And if he had not wanted her so badly in his bed for years…
‘I am pleased to hear you are wise to the honour,’ he bit out in response to her sarcasm. ‘If you will excuse me, Arabella? I believe I might nap for the rest of the journey.’ He lowered his lids, deliberately shutting out the vision of loveliness that was his brand-new bride.
Except Darius could still see her and feel her behind those closed lids, as she glared rebelliously across the width of the carriage at him.
The silky gold of her hair was tempting him into releasing it. The pout of her lips was begging to be kissed. The full swell of her breasts was spilling over the low neckline of her gown. A fullness that Darius ached to cup in his hands. To kiss and caress once more as he had that evening a week ago in Hawk St Claire’s study.
Dear God, he had no need to fear meeting death at the hands of his enemies when this desire for Arabella was sure to drive him into an early grave!
‘I am very tired, Darius. I believe I will retire for the night.’ Arabella placed her napkin on the dinner table before standing up.
She had found herself becoming more and more tense, and their conversation had reflected that tension as the two of them dined privately in the warm comfort of the secluded parlour the landlord of the inn had provided for their use. As bedtime had approached, that tension had reached breaking point…
Having suggested that once they reached the inn they might retire for the afternoon together to their bedchambers, Darius had once again busied himself—unnecessarily so, Arabella had felt—in seeing to the stabling of the horses and the securing of the coach.Leaving Arabella to be shown upstairs to the privacy of her bedchamber and the attentions of her maid, who had been sent on ahead to the inn with Darius’s valet and their luggage. Having bathed and changed into her robe, Arabella had lain down upon her bed and managed to fall asleep, waking only when her maid came back into the room to help her dress for dinner.
Darius had obviously found time to shave and bathe, and his hair was freshly washed and gleaming deeply gold as it curled in meticulous disarray about his stunning face. He had also changed from his dark travelling clothes into a tailored superfine the same colour blue as his eyes, his impeccable linen was snowy-white, and his buff-coloured pantaloons moulded to the muscled length of his thighs above shiny black Hessians.
On first seeing him thus, Arabella had had to allow that Darius was the handsomest man in England!
The knowledge that this man was also her husband, and that the second night
‘Expect, perhaps,’ he said ruefully. ‘But never be truthfully assured of.’
She raised a sarcastic brow. ‘In that case I should no doubt consider myself fortunate that you feel able to offer me such assurances.’
Once again Darius was tempted to lift her skirts and paddle her bottom until she screamed for mercy. After which he would enjoy nothing more than making love to her until they were both thoroughly satisfied!
She was a little madam. A minx. And he found her completely enchanting. She was a temptress who had occupied far too many of his waking thoughts—and his dreams—this past week.
Perhaps if she had not Darius might have been more on his guard yesterday. More expectant regarding the sabotage of their coach…
He would not relax his guard again until they were safely ensconced at Winton Hall. Once there, he had the necessary security in place to ensure Arabella’s safety at least.
Darius’s expression hardened as he once again regretted that he had allowed himself to be beguiled into marrying her. By doing so he had brought her into the web of deceit and danger that had necessarily become his own life these past eight years.
He would not have been so tempted beyond resistance if Arabella were not so beautiful. So delectable. So spirited. And if he had not wanted her so badly in his bed for years…
‘I am pleased to hear you are wise to the honour,’ he bit out in response to her sarcasm. ‘If you will excuse me, Arabella? I believe I might nap for the rest of the journey.’ He lowered his lids, deliberately shutting out the vision of loveliness that was his brand-new bride.
Except Darius could still see her and feel her behind those closed lids, as she glared rebelliously across the width of the carriage at him.
The silky gold of her hair was tempting him into releasing it. The pout of her lips was begging to be kissed. The full swell of her breasts was spilling over the low neckline of her gown. A fullness that Darius ached to cup in his hands. To kiss and caress once more as he had that evening a week ago in Hawk St Claire’s study.
Dear God, he had no need to fear meeting death at the hands of his enemies when this desire for Arabella was sure to drive him into an early grave!
‘I am very tired, Darius. I believe I will retire for the night.’ Arabella placed her napkin on the dinner table before standing up.
She had found herself becoming more and more tense, and their conversation had reflected that tension as the two of them dined privately in the warm comfort of the secluded parlour the landlord of the inn had provided for their use. As bedtime had approached, that tension had reached breaking point…
Having suggested that once they reached the inn they might retire for the afternoon together to their bedchambers, Darius had once again busied himself—unnecessarily so, Arabella had felt—in seeing to the stabling of the horses and the securing of the coach.Leaving Arabella to be shown upstairs to the privacy of her bedchamber and the attentions of her maid, who had been sent on ahead to the inn with Darius’s valet and their luggage. Having bathed and changed into her robe, Arabella had lain down upon her bed and managed to fall asleep, waking only when her maid came back into the room to help her dress for dinner.
Darius had obviously found time to shave and bathe, and his hair was freshly washed and gleaming deeply gold as it curled in meticulous disarray about his stunning face. He had also changed from his dark travelling clothes into a tailored superfine the same colour blue as his eyes, his impeccable linen was snowy-white, and his buff-coloured pantaloons moulded to the muscled length of his thighs above shiny black Hessians.
On first seeing him thus, Arabella had had to allow that Darius was the handsomest man in England!
The knowledge that this man was also her husband, and that the second night
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