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We’ll get the bastard yet! her husband had crowed, sweeping her into an embrace. While it was still strange to believe her uncle was a traitor to the crown—did Father know?— Georgia was proud to help set the trap Demon and Rourke and Thorne had devised.

If they couldn’t track Blackrose down in Canada, they’d lure him back to England…

“I can hear ye thinking, love.” Demon shifted, so her sensitive breasts rubbed against his waistcoat. “Why are ye so serious?”

Grinning, she lifted her head, marveling again at this miracle which had brought them together.

“Why, husband, I am merely pouting about the inequalities between us.”

“What inequalities?” he barked, his lips tugging into that adorable frown.

She couldn’t stop herself from tapping her finger against his lips. Then she dragged it down to his throat, where the top button of his collar was already undone. She went to work on the rest.

“Have you forgotten my complaint already?” she murmured, reaching the buttons on his waistcoat, then pulling apart the two halves of the shirt to reveal the skin at the base of his neck.

Demon was shifting as in discomfort, his hands going to her hips. “What are ye talking about, Georgia?”

She rose over him, her lips finding the sensitive spot on his collar bone as her thigh nestled between his legs. Because it felt good, and because she knew it would drive him mad, she ground her core against his thigh, leaving a wet mark on his trousers. Sure enough, he growled and pulled her closer.

“Georgia?” he snapped.

“Just this, husband…” While her lips nibbled at him her hands were busy, tugging at the rest of his clothes. “You are still fully dressed. Even wearing your riding boots! I find this incredibly unfair.” And not a little reminiscent of their early days together, when he’d refused to bare his scars to her view. “I demand you remove this clothing at once, and…” Inspiration struck. “Join me in a bath.”

Abruptly, Demon sat up, taking her with him. “A bath?”

“Yes, husband, a bath.” Georgia snaked her arms around his neck, still kissing his jaw. “A warm, bubbly bath, the two of us slipping and sliding against one another. I will even allow you to wash my breasts, which are likely very dirty.”

With efficient movements, Demon removed her arms from around his neck, moved her to one side, and began to struggle out of his jacket. “And my ballocks need a good scrubbing. Gently, of course.”

Grinning wickedly, Georgia reclined on her elbows. “I will use my mouth,” she promised.

He stilled for a split second, then sprang into action. He was still shedding clothing as he clomped across the room toward the bathing chamber, dropping them hither and thither. Since he hadn’t allowed her to hire him a valet, she supposed it would be up to her to pick up his discarded clothing again. The thought made her smile.

She heard the water turn on and the bath begin to fill.

“Wife!” Demon bellowed from the room with the tub. “I have thirty-five minutes until I have to open the door for Rajah. Get yer arse in here!”

And Lady Georgia Stoughton Hayle, Duchess of Lickwick, chuckled as she slid from the bed and went to her waiting arms of her husband.