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“I must be going mad, Snow,” she sighed as they headed up the stairs to her bedchamber. “That has to be the only explanation for these wayward thoughts.”

That, or the Wolf had to be the devil himself, weaving sensual enchantments over her with his words.

Tables and chairs, indeed!

Still, she could not help the sudden warmth that suffused her chest and cheeks at the thought. She had only the vaguest idea of what it meant, but her increasingly depraved mind filled in the gaping holes quite imaginatively.

No!

Scarlett set her foot down viciously on that particular image.

She was not going to be felled by a few scintillating images courtesy of one of the worst rogues in Society! She was going to gather her wits, wear her brightest smile, and come out the victor in… whatever it was she was currently locked in with the Duke.

Even if he was proving to be the toughest, most insurmountable, most devastating creature in all of London.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Scarlett turned over in her bed with a soft groan. Soft moonlight filtered through the gauzy curtains, casting shadows over the carpeted floor. Somewhere on the table, a lone flame flickered as a candle burned into the night.

One would think that a lavishly appointed bedchamber in a ducal estate would be enough to lull a weary soul to sleep, but not Scarlett—and she knew well enough the reason for her restlessness.

“I shall have you bent over my table, my chair, anywhere—your legs spread wide open for me as you beg me for release.”

She had not been lying to him. She did want those things—but only from him. Anyone else only made her shudder in sheer disgust.

Tables and chairs.

Scarlett bit her lower lip, her hands fisting the covers.

He had truly and irrevocably ruined all sorts of furniture for her. There was no way she could ever look atanythingagain and wonder just what Hudson could do to her, given only the slightest prodding of his imagination.

Ever since that afternoon in the lodge two days ago, a strange yearning had been lingering at the back of her mind. A low, throbbing ache pulsed between her legs, especially when she lay alone in her bed, her mind going over and over the words he had whispered in her ear as his hands boldly roamed over her body with nothing but blankets and a thin, wet shift between them.

Scarlett let out a soft moan as the longing flared hot and bright. Enough to send her tossing between the sheets once more and waking the little puppy, who had been sleeping beside her.

“Shh…” she murmured to Snowdrop, stroking his head lovingly. “Go back to sleep, little one.”

Dark eyes peered back at her with concern, before the little puppy laid his head between his paws and slipped into slumber once more.

Scarlett wrinkled her nose at the adorable sight. How fortunate to be able to sleep so peacefully through the night.

And then she let out a sigh of frustration that seemed to echo from the depths of her soul.

How had she sunk so low? Now, she was envying a puppy, who—not more than two days ago—had been homeless, cold and wet and shivering in the rain when she had rescued him.

“At least puppies do not toss and turn about, wondering if they are going insane,” she muttered to herself.

Nor did puppies dream of being bent over tables and chairs, hoping that a tall, darkly handsome man would do the most debauched things to them…

Scarlett tossed the covers aside. There was no point in waiting for sleep to find her. She had done everything she could the past four hours or so already. She had counted to a thousand sheep and sung herself a bunch of lullabies with the silliest endings. She had even tried to recall, word for word, the seemingly endless soliloquy Lord Ponsonby had subjected her to in the last ball.

If she was going to find sleep, then it was not in her bed, tangled up in her sheets, dreaming of a rogue doing the most deliciously roguish things to her.

No, sleep was most likely to be found in the kitchens, where there was hot milk and maybe a bit of honey. Scarlett sighed as she pictured wrapping her hands around a warm mug, breathing in the familiar fragrance.

If warm milk and honey could not help her, then she was beyond saving at this point. She might as well seek out the Wolf in his tower.

I wonder how he would react to that.He would most likely throw me out of the estate.