Waking Up With the Duke by Lorraine Heath

beck and call.”
    “I intend to trouble them as little as possible. Easier to be forgotten that way.”
    “You are not easily forgotten.” He wished he’d held his tongue. He immediately read the discomfort on her face. “This way.”
    He led her up the stairs. They were not as grand or as sweeping as the ones at Grantwood Manor, but they were wide enough to allow them to walk side by side. Their legs brushed and she nearly stumbled. He was beginning to gain a better understanding of the courage it had taken her to come here. When the initial attraction was strong enough, he’d taken to his bed women with whom he had little more than a passing acquaintance. But he had no doubt that Jayne’s experiences were limited to Walfort, that she’d been a virgin on her wedding night. Giving herself to him now was not something she did lightly. Betraying her vows, regardless of the circumstances, could not be very palatable.
    At the landing, he guided her to a room next to his. “I have no bathing chamber here,” he told her, “but the servants can bring you a tub and hot water whenever you wish it.”
    She nodded. He opened the door. Her fingers slid off his arm as she wandered into the room. The velvet bed covering, the canopy, and the drapes at the window were blue, matching the shade of her eyes. A week ago everything had been green. The fainting couch near the window, the plush couch and armchairs near the fireplace, were new. Flowers from the greenhouse filled vases. Everything had been arranged with her comfort in mind.
    She gave the bed a brief glance in passing. Removing her cloak, she set it on the chaise longue and walked to the window. “What a lovely view of the lake.”
    “I’ve always liked it.”
    He watched as she lifted her veil, exposing the profile of her exotic features to his perusal. His gut tightened as though she’d removed everything, as though she stood before him in total nudity. She pulled out two hat pins, removed her hat, and set it on her cloak. Her gaze shot to the bed again. Straightening, she began tugging on a glove.
    “Shall we get to it, then?”
    Any ardor he may have felt building plummeted. She looked as though she was on the verge of being escorted to the gallows. He strode toward the bed. She stiffened, backed up a step, caught herself retreating and angled her chin defiantly. He leaned against the bedpost. “I thought we’d have a relaxing dinner first. Perhaps you’d like to bathe, even nap, after the long journey.”
    “I wouldn’t be able to sleep. A bath might be nice. And dinner. Although I hope your cook didn’t go to a great deal of bother, as I doubt I’ll be able to eat much.”
    “Are you afraid?”
    “No, I . . .” Her gaze darted to the bed, the window, the seating area, anywhere except to him.
    He walked over to her, acutely aware of the tension radiating from her. “Don’t think about what’s to come, Jayne. Simply leave everything to me. I promise it will not be nearly as awful as you’re imagining.” He skimmed his fingers over her cheek, taking satisfaction when she finally met his gaze, fighting the urge to take her in his arms because she looked so damned uncertain. “Come to the library when you’re ready for dinner. Meanwhile, I’ll have the servants bring up bathwater.”
    He turned and strode from the room. He didn’t appreciate at all seeing the apprehension in her eyes. He had his work cut out for him: getting her to relax and enjoy what was to come. Fortunately, it was a task he was greatly anticipating.
    N ot think about what was to come? Had he gone stark raving mad? It was all she’d been able to think about since the meeting held in the sitting area of Walfort’s bedchamber at twenty-two minutes past three in the morning.
    As she sank into the warm water in the tub set up near the fireplace, she wished that they’d simply gotten it over with as she suggested. Instead, the specter of what was to happen later would simply hang