The Ugly Duchess by Eloisa James Page A

fit together,” James said. His breath was uneven. “Do you think you might take your drawers off, as long as we’re both undressing, Daisy?”
    The timid side of her would rather that winkle didn’t come near her again. But it was James asking, so she nodded and stood up. She twisted to reach the tiny metal hooks that fastened her drawers, when James made a hoarse sound, like a little gasp. Under her eyelashes, she saw his body strain forward. He didn’t think she was ugly.
    Instead of immediately unfastening her drawers, she started pulling pins from her hair, shaking it free so that it tumbled down over her breasts, all twisted strands of honey and cognac and amber. Her skin prickled at the touch of her hair, as if the strands were fingers caressing her.
    “Daisy,” James breathed.
    “My drawers are fastened with small hooks,” she said, hiding her smile. “I have to undo them carefully or I might tear the lace.” She slowly, slowly slipped the first hook from its eye, allowing the lace garment to dip lower on her stomach. Another hook; another glance at James from under her lashes. He was beautiful, and intimidating. With the third hook, the silk started to slide down her hips, but she caught it.
    “Let it fall,” James ordered hoarsely. He was vibrating with impatience.
    She grinned at him, feeling a flash of power. “Say please. ”
    Instead he reached out, lightning quick, and her smalls fell past the little twist of amber curls between her legs, down to her ankles.
    “You don’t need to wear that sort of thing,” he said, his eyes feasting on her.
    “I wear them because they are outrageous,” she told him. “Mama never allows me to copy French modes except in matters of undergarments. Though now it’s all different, of course. I no longer need obey her restrictions. I can wear whatever I choose.”
    “I prefer to think of you with nothing under your gown at all. No corset, no drawers . . . just you, so I can touch you under your gown any time I please. Please don’t wear those things again.”
    Theo’s eyes widened. “You wouldn’t!” It came out a squeak.
    “Why don’t you come sit on my lap again?” James shrugged off his dressing gown and then sat back, appearing not the least shy about the fact he was utterly naked and his male organ was in such a state.
    In fact, his eyes made Theo feel warm and confident, as if she weren’t standing naked in a ray of sulky evening sunshine.
    “Why don’t you come and get me?” she asked. “You can practice whatever it is you intend to do if you ever talk me into leaving off my drawers. Which you won’t.” Without bothering to look at him, she scampered to the other side of the bedchamber.
    James didn’t run; he merely rose and padded deliberately toward her, his face as hungry as that of any self-respecting tiger. But what caught Theo’s attention was his body. It had shadows and definition, like a marble statue, but the similarities ended there; she knew it was hot and alive. And his male part . . . even looking at it made her feel giddily alive, flaring with heat and desire.
    A nervous giggle erupted from her mouth as he drew closer. “This is so different from last night!”
    “Why?” James asked. “Now just stay still, Daisy. Stay still.”
    She danced sideways at the last moment and ran around the end of the bed. “Because we’re looking at each other.”
    “I always look at you,” he said, his voice hoarse and low. “I’ve looked at you ever since you grew those breasts. I just never let myself acknowledge what I was feeling while I looked. But it was hell the year you turned sixteen and suddenly started wearing lower bodices in the evening.”
    Theo tiptoed backward. “You must be joking!”
    His mouth tilted into a wolfish grin. “I had a cock-stand under my napkin for months. Months. ”
    “I had no idea,” Theo said, wonderment stopping her for a second. Which was just long enough for him to snatch her into his