The Duke's Men [1] What the Duke Desires by Sabrina Jeffries Page B

remembered the feel of his strong arm about
     her shoulders. And worse yet, the way his hand had toyed with hers earlier. She should
     have tugged hers free. Why hadn’t she?
    Because it had been so . . . intimate. No man had ever held her hand in such a fashion,
     boldly but tenderly, too. It had utterly unnerved her. Even now, with her hand still
     tucked in the crook of his arm and his thigh pressed against hers, she felt that same
     quivering in her belly that she’d felt when he’d caressed her hand.
    She stiffened. Skrimshaw was right. She’d better take care. The duke had been the
     one to assert he was her husband, and that shifted everything. Now there was no reason
     for him to treat her like a sister, no reason for them to have separate rooms . . .
     anywhere.
    Her pulse gave a flutter at the thought of spending several nights on the road alone
     in an inn room with him.
    Lord save her. She’d better be careful.
    She slanted a gaze up at him. He was looking entirely too unreadable. After her little
     display, she’d expected him to be a good deal angrier. But he’d conceded defeat and
     acted as if nothing had happened. It had put her on her guard again. He had something
     up his sleeve. What could it be?
    They reached the coaching inn a short while later. As the Greasleys took their leave,
     Mrs. Greasley surprised her by murmuring, “Don’t let the man bully you, dearie.If you don’t stand up for yourself at the beginning of the marriage, he’ll be no good
     to you for anything but grief.”
    The sage advice, coming from a woman who clearly had her own husband tied neatly in
     knots, bemused her. Had Mrs. Greasley noticed more about their relationship than Lisette
     had given her credit for? Or was that just the woman’s usual advice to newly married
     women?
    It didn’t matter—Lisette only had to survive the duke’s presence long enough to extricate
     Tristan from this trouble. And standing up to Lyons when he tried to bully her wasn’t
     the problem. She could manage that. It was when he was being sweet that he was most
     dangerous.
    Was that his current course—to kill her with kindness?
    Trying to figure out his game consumed her throughout the next hour, while he went
     off with the innkeeper to arrange for their room and their passage to Dieppe, have
     their bags sent up, and ask that a meal be provided. So much for traveling as a regular
     person. Clearly he had no idea how a regular person traveled.
    Then again, he’d changed the rules by claiming to be a land agent. Such men did have
     some money—they would be able to afford a decent room in an inn, and they would be
     used to giving orders.
    She had to admit it had been rather clever of him to hit on that role. It put him
     in that nebulous land between gentleman and tradesman. He worked for aliving, but his position required a certain amount of polish and skill. It meant that
     his accent wasn’t too odd, his knowledge of certain things too unbelievable. And clearly he had realized
     that he knew the part well enough to play it.
    She only wished she knew the role of wife half as well. Would a real wife let him
     handle all the arrangements without voicing an opinion? Would she complain that the
     rooms they were led to were too small?
    Thank God there were two of them—a bedchamber and a sitting room. That somewhat eased
     her fear of being alone with him. One of them could sleep on the settee while the
     other took the bed. They wouldn’t be quite as much in each other’s pockets as she’d
     feared.
    He must have planned it that way, and for that she was grateful.
    As soon as the innkeeper left, scurrying off to arrange for their dinner, His Grace
     shed his greatcoat, then walked over to the ewer, poured some water in the basin,
     and began to wash his hands.
    The silence stretched maddeningly between them. “I imagine that you find the public
     coaches very dirty, Your Grace,” she said as she took off her cloak and