He began stroking her there, the throbbing consuming her.

  “Do you have to do that?” she asked.

  He stopped. “I need to ready you for what comes next, Laurel. The first time will hurt.”

  “How do you know when I’ll be ready?”

  He slipped a finger inside her and her hips rose. “I’ll be able to tell. Trust me. I have experience.”

  Of course, he did. He was a man. He’d done this sort of thing all the time. The thought of him with other women angered her and she had no idea why.

  Then rational thought became impossible as another finger joined the first. There was only need. Something building inside her. Something fierce and powerful demanding to be released. As his fingers worked some kind of dark magic, she began moaning. Whimpering. Sounds came from her that she’d never made before. But then again, she didn’t understand what he was doing to her. Only that it was wicked and wonderful and she wanted more.

  Whatever built within her now screamed to get out. Her body didn’t seem her own anymore. It was his, to do with however he pleased. A sudden, blinding warmth filled her as a wave of pleasure so intense filled her. She cried out and her body shuddered. Ripples continued through her as she bucked and moaned, tears escaping from the corners of her eyes and streaming into her hair.

  Then he was above her. “I’m sorry.”

  He thrust into her and the pain he’d promised became a reality. She clawed at his back and realized he wasn’t moving.

  “Get used to me,” he said hoarsely.

  He certainly filled her. She was stretched as never before. Then he began moving—and she felt the urge to move with him. They began a kind of dance. She caught on quickly and found him the perfect partner. He kissed her brow. Her cheeks. Buried his face against her throat.

  But he didn’t kiss her mouth.

  It didn’t matter. His movements brought a delicious feeling and she met every thrust. He increased the speed and began to plunge deeper and deeper into her. His hand came between their joined bodies and teased something that drove her to the edge of madness. Then Laurel was falling, falling, falling. He thrust one last time and then shouted his own cry, collapsing on her. Quickly, he rolled away and she came with him. For a moment, she forgot the harsh words that had been spoken between them, only relishing the feel of his arms about her and him still inside her.

  It didn’t last. He took her shoulders and moved her away. He slipped from the bed and found his dressing gown, shrugging into it and belting it. Without a word, her husband left, returning to his rooms as he’d said he would. All the happiness and wonderment she’d felt soured within her. Laurel beat her fist into the pillow, cursing him.

  *

  Anthony returned to his bedchamber. He could still smell Laurel on his skin and cursed.

  She just wasn’t on his skin—she’d wormed her way under it.

  He paced aimlessly. He’d gone to her tonight and made love to her simply because she had forbid him to do so. He needed her to understand that this wasn’t some partnership. They were not and would never be equals. She was nothing more to him than the woman who would bear his children.

  Or so he told himself.

  Instead, he wanted nothing more than to charge back into her bedchamber and make love to her again. He would never do that. She couldn’t learn that he was fast becoming obsessed with her. A woman who knew her husband was besotted with her was a man who would lose any power he had over her. No, Laurel was not going to make him dance to her tune. He was the man. He would be leading in any dance they engaged in, be it in or out of bed.

  Oh, but her body. Its satin skin and tempting curves. He swallowed at the memories just created between them. Laurel St. Clair was different from any woman he’d ever bedded. No, not just any female. Laurel was now his. His duchess. His wife. Yet it was the St. Clair in her which tempted him beyond reason.

  He’d given in to her demand and not kissed her mouth. He wouldn’t do that again. The only reason he had was so that she would let him to make love to her. Anthony had feared after their argument that she might press for an annulment and return to her family. He couldn’t allow that. He’d needed to make her his—and he had. But the next time, they would kiss. For hours, if he wanted them to. Laurel was his wife. She was to be subservient to him in every way.

  Yet he didn’t want to break her spirit. It was one of the most attractive things about her.

  He threw off his dressing gown and fell into bed, doubting that sleep would come. Surprisingly, he woke hours later, dawn still a while away. He must have been tired. He fought the urge to return to his new wife’s bed. He needed to retain the power in this marriage. Going to her again so soon would show her how weak he was. In fact, he wouldn’t touch her tonight. Let her see what she thought of that.

  Anthony dressed without ringing for Monkton. He went to the stables, the sun just peering over the horizon, and saddled Bucephalus himself. He was eager to see Linwood and rode around the estate for two hours before returning to the house.

  This time, Monkton awaited him, as did a hot bath.

  “When I saw you were gone, Your Grace, I took the liberty of checking at the stables. I knew you would need a hot bath when you returned from your ride.”

  “You anticipate my every need, Monkton. That will be all.”

  He shucked off his clothes and eased himself into the steaming water. He closed his eyes for a few minutes, savoring the warmth surrounding him. Then he slid beneath the surface and came up, his fingers pushing his hair away from his face.

  “I would like to see the estate today.”

  He opened his eyes to find his wife standing there.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lord, but this man was a feast for the eyes.

  Laurel had cut through their adjoining dressing rooms, wanting to speak to her husband before breakfast. Having spent enough mornings in Jeremy’s breakfast room, she knew there would be footmen stationed about to wait on them. If Linfield wanted to argue about her request, she wanted to do so in private. She owed him that much. It wouldn’t do for her to undercut him. She certainly didn’t want the servants discussing the tension between the newlyweds. He was as new to Linwood as she was and for some reason, she didn’t want him making a bad impression. He hadn’t seemed to know any of the servants when they’d arrived yesterday, so their early perceptions of him would be lasting ones.

  The only man he’d recognized had been Ross Woodward, the estate’s manager. Mr. Woodward’s remarks about the duke when he was a boy had brought about tension and her husband had shut down the man’s comments. She still knew there was some mystery that needed to be solved. If she could learn what had happened to eight-year-old Anthony Godwin, she might better understand the Duke of Linfield, the man he had become. Perhaps Mr. Woodward would be willing to share what he knew of the long-ago incident which had turned her husband into a stiff, unemotional man. She should have thought to ask him when she claimed the ledgers for the previous years this morning.

  Looking at his bare chest, glistening with water, made her think of their coupling last night. Linfield wasn’t unemotional when it came to her. Though he would never have admitted it, Laurel believed he had feelings for her. At least she hoped he did. She wanted to be on good terms with this man. He would be the father of her children and she wanted their household to be peaceful and loving. If they could be friendly and behave respectfully toward one another, it would be a good environment in which to raise their children.

  She feared, though, that he would withdraw from her, only coming to her when he wanted her physically. Already, he was fast becoming something she needed, like the very air she breathed. She swore she would never let him see how taken she was with him. If she revealed how drugging his kiss was, he would use it to his advantage.

  Laurel needed to remember she was a St. Clair. Though she hadn’t held the name long, she understood it was a part of her blood. She’d learned St. Clairs could be headstrong and passionate. Stubborn and bold. She would need to stand firm against this man and never let her true feelings show. She already liked him a great deal. It wouldn’t do to move beyond that. She would have to keep her wits about her whenever he was near.

  Especially in her bed.

  Suddenly, he plunged beneath the water and then emerged, pushing his hair back. Her mouth watered. She wanted to lick every drop from his chest. The thought enticed her—and appalled her.

  Before he could open his eyes and find her drooling over him, she said, “I would like to see the estate today.”

  Suddenly, those crystal blue eyes pierced her. Laurel stood her ground, her nails digging into her palms as she kept a bland look on her face.

  “Why?”

  “Why do I want to see the estate?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it is my new home. I am curious about it.”

  “This house is also your new home. Surely, you’d like to tour it with Mrs. Wallingford.”

  “I plan to do that, as well. In fact, I was hoping you would do so with me. See both the house and then ride about the estate.” When he didn’t reply, she added, “I know it’s been many years since you were here. You couldn’t remember everything about the house. It’s your home, too, Anthony. Shall we see it together?”

  She watched as he pondered the question and then he nodded. “All right. We’ll have Mrs. Wallingford take us about after breakfast.”

  “And what about seeing Linwood?”

  “Maybe tomorrow. I would prefer to meet with Woodward and discuss various details regarding the estate. Once I’m more knowledgeable, I will know what to look for when I’m out and about.”

  Figuring he would turn down her request, she asked, “Might I sit in when you have this discussion with Mr. Woodward?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Laurel thought he merely mollified her but at least he hadn’t totally rejected the idea.

  Without warning, he rose from the tub. Water streamed down his toned body. He looked like a Greek statue brought to life, his proportions perfect. Yet he was a living, breathing man.

  She heard him chuckling as she dashed from the room and returned to her bedchamber. Laurel paused before the mirror and saw the color in her cheeks. He’d stood deliberately, wanting to embarrass her. Seeing him in all his golden perfection hadn’t embarrassed her. It had only made her want him even more—and that’s why embarrassment reddened her face.

  Leaving her rooms, she made her way downstairs and asked for a cup of tea. Sanders, the butler, asked what she wished for breakfast and she placed her order. By the time her plate arrived and she’d begun eating, her husband entered the room, immaculately dressed. It was sinful the way he filled out his buckskin breeches and bottle green coat. His hair, still damp, looked darker than usual. She fought the urge to run her fingers through it.

  He told Sanders what he wished to eat and had a cup of coffee brought to him.

  Glancing at her cup, he asked, “You prefer tea to coffee?”

  “I do. While the smell of freshly-brewed coffee is heavenly, the taste leaves much to be desired.”

  “The women I know douse it heavily with cream and sugar.”

  Laurel sniffed. “This woman prefers not to imbibe it at all.”

  He smiled. It caught her by surprise. When he did, his eyes lit up. It made him even more handsome than usual. She had better steer clear from amusing him because a smile like that was intoxicating. She wanted to keep him at a distance, not entertain him.

  They finished their meal without further discussion. He inhaled his food and finished at the same time she did.

  “There was no need to rush, Your Grace. I would have waited for you.”

  He looked sheepish. “I tend to wolf down my food. In the army, you never knew when a meal might be interrupted by the enemy shelling your position. I went without food and sleep for three days once when we were under attack. I suppose some of that feeling of not being able to finish lingers. I apologize. I will be more aware of my manners in the future.”

  Again, she was surprised, this time by his words. She placed her hand over his.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t upset with you. I know it must be hard to be living in society after spending years on the warfront.”

  He gazed at their hands and she slipped hers back to her lap.

  Rising, she said, “I will see if Mrs. Wallingford can show us the house now.”

  Linfield nodded. She felt her face flushing. Merely touching him seemed to fluster her. Laurel knew she better get her emotions under control.

  She found Mrs. Wallingford and the housekeeper was more than willing to give them a thorough tour of the house. For the next two hours, they accompanied her as she took them from the wine cellars to the attics. Laurel was impressed by the magnificent library and couldn’t wait to start reading the books within it. Though a good student in school and an avid reader of the newspaper, she’d only discovered novels when introduced to them by Leah and had enjoyed discussing them with the book club members. It still amazed her that she had idle time in which to sit and enjoy reading.

  She also found the schoolroom to her liking. It smelled of old books and chalk. She thought of her children sitting at the table, learning to read and computing sums. She felt her husband’s eyes on her and looked up. Somehow, she knew he’d read her thoughts.

  Located directly across from the schoolroom was the nursery. It looked forlorn, not having been used in many years.

  “We’ll need fresh paint in here. New carpet, too,” she pointed out. “I don’t want the babies crawling about on a cold floor.”

  “You know you may do whatever you like,” Linfield said. “The same with any room in the house here or in London.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I will make a list of the things I’d like done. I’d also like to talk with Rachel and have her visit Linwood. She has a fine eye for detail and I’m sure she’d make some excellent suggestions. Perhaps after the Season ends, she and Evan can come for a visit.”

  He merely nodded and stepped back into the corridor. Laurel wondered if he minded her sister and brother-in-law coming to visit. It didn’t matter. She wanted them to come. In fact, she wanted all her relatives to see Linwood. It surprised her how it had only been one day since she’d seen most of them and yet she missed them terribly.

  She thanked Mrs. Wallingford for showing them around and the housekeeper left. Linfield lingered in the hall, waiting for her.

  “Do you remember having lessons in the schoolroom?” she asked, knowing he probably had no memories from his time in the nursery.

  “Vaguely. Theodore and I had a tutor. When Theodore left for school, the tutor only stayed a short time and then he was gone.”

  “What about your bedchamber? Did you recall which one was yours?”

  “Not really. It’s been too long since I was here.”

  With that, he turned and walked away.

  *

  Anthony had to escape. He’d listened to Mrs. Wallingford go on and on about the house. She had a story for each room they visited—and they all included his father or Theodore. He’d gleaned that she’d arrived at Linwood about a year after his departure. Sanders, the butler, had come aboard a dozen years ago. As the woman prattled on, he wondered if she or any of the other servants had even known about him. If they wondered who this new Duke of Linfield was and why he’d been sent away as a child.

  He had recognized his bedchamber, lying to Laurel about that. He’d spent many hours locked within it, receiving only bread and water as punishment for one of his many transgressions. His father had removed all books and toys from the room, wanting him to suffer from boredom. He knew every inch of the room, from the one loose plank near the corner to the wallpaper he’d peeled from behind the bed. Just standing in the room made him break out in a cold sweat.

  The schoolroom was different. He’d been smarter than Theodore and could remember their tutor praising him. He’d never understood where the man went. Anthony had thought the tutor would remain until it was time for him to join Theodore at school—yet one day he’d simply vanished. After that, Anthony had roamed the estate as he pleased. Read the books he wanted to. Played with his toy soldiers, lining them up and fighting imaginary battles. He’d slipped open a drawer while Laurel was distracted and found the set of soldiers still sitting where he’d last left them. His throat had thickened with unshed tears for the little boy no one had seemed to want.

  He ventured to the office which had housed the estate manager years ago and found Ross Woodward at work. He shot to his feet at once.

  “Your Grace! I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Have a seat.”

  “Please, take mine,” Woodward said and came from behind the desk, seating himself in the chair in front of the desk.

  Anthony went and took Woodward’s place. It felt like home. Many years ago, before he’d been exiled to Aunt Constance’s country house, he’d come and visited the estate’s manager regularly. The man, whose name escaped him, had explained things to Anthony and let him sit in this very chair. He’d felt important and special, knowing it was his brother who was have Linwood—but that he would know things about the place that Theodore never would.

  Who knew over two decades later he would be the duke?

  “I’d like you to give me a general accounting of the estate,” he began. “I know you sent letters to me but start from the beginning. Take as long as you wish. We can examine the ledgers later.”

  Woodward started to speak and then nodded. Anthony decided the man didn’t know where to begin, being overwhelmed in the presence of the new duke.

  “Tell me about the number of tenants at Linwood,” he suggested. “Those who have been here the longest. What crops are grown and the approximate yields of the past ten years. I’m sure that will lead to other questions I may have.”

  For the next two hours, Woodward spoke. The man was knowledgeable and obviously very good at his job. He referred to no notes, simply speaking from the heart. Anthony let him talk and when he seemed exhausted, the duke let him pause. At that point, Anthony began discussing what he would like to do to improve the estate, based upon what he had seen during his early morning ride. The additions he had in mind. An unused section that he believed would be useful for storage and even additional farms. As he laid out future plans, Woodward joined in eagerly. The two men talked for several hours. By the end of their discussions, Anthony was eager to get out on the estate once more to see some spots and examine them in more detail, as well as talk with his tenants.