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“I said I…get it.”

“Yes, you did, but then you wouldn’t tell me how you were getting it, or when!”

Last week he’d sent word to Auld Gus he wanted to do business with the Duke of Death, but the mysterious man refused to meet. Instead, the barkeep acted as their go-between, and tonight Alistair had finally been able to fetch enough belladonna to commit the shameful act they were contemplating.

She’s right, though. Ye didnae tell her yer plan.

Great. Now he was in a three-way argument?

Her expression had softened a bit, and her fingers went to work on her shirtwaist once more. “Alistair, I am sorry. I had no idea you had a plan in place. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

Refusing to allow himself to be distracted by all the smooth skin of her arms, or the way she was already reaching for the hooks of her simple skirt, Alistair shook his head.

And how was I supposed to tell you about THIS?

When she paused and cocked her head, he realized she didn’t understand. So he swept his hand down his body and croaked, “Dark…Knight.”

A small smile tugged at her lips as her fingers continued their work. “I imagine it would be quite simple. I understand you’re not comfortable speaking, but really, Alistair, your handwriting is quite adequate.” She stepped out of her skirt and petticoats. “Dear Olivia, I have been lying to you since our marriage began. I am actually The Dark Knight, hero of the East End, and your savior. I will use my dastardly connections to fetch the poison you demand. Love, Alistair.”

God help him, his lips twitched.

Dastardly?

She shrugged, already reaching for the buttons in his shirt. “It seemed to fit the motif—poison and all.” Then she stretched up on her toes and kissed his jaw, the only thing she could reach. “You are a hero, Alistair. You saved my life, before I’d even met you.” She kissed him again. “That doesn’t make sense, but you know what I mean. Why would you keep this a secret from me? How could you think I wouldn’t adore this part of you?”

Because…

Because he was used to keeping secrets.

Ye demanded she trust ye, without sharing yer own trust?

She was right. He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head with a resigned sigh.

This put his mouth in her reach, and she lost little time in claiming it. In claiming him. She’d worked her way into his heart, and Alistair didn’t think he could remove her.

Didn’t think he wanted to.

The pair of them wasted no time in divesting themselves of the rest of their clothing.

Olivia was the one to pull him toward the bed, but he had other plans.

The way he was feeling right now? This wasn’t going to be soft and slow love-making.

He wanted a fook.

Grasping her chin in his hand, he pulled her toward him, crushing her lips in his and claiming her. His tongue thrust angrily between her lips, which parted on a moan..

This was what he wanted.

Eagerly, Olivia’s fingers curled around his straining cock, sliding up and down, the way he’d shown her, as she rubbed her nipples against his chest. Christ, she wanted this as badly as he did.

She wanted him, and she wanted him hard.

With a gasp Alistair pulled upright, then slid his hand between her thighs. Aye, she was wet and ready for him. That was another thing he loved about her; that she matched his passions head on, without wavering.

His daring lass.

When he slid first one finger, then another into her, she squirmed against his palm and her strokes increased. She was staring up at him, trust in those warm brown eyes of hers.