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The thought was sobering enough that he pulled away from her with a gasp.

Olivia whimpered again, clutching at him, and he almost gave in.

Almost lifted her, placing her on the edge of his desk, rucked up her gown, and fooked her the way he wanted.

Nay, she’ll be yer wife. It’ll no’ be fooking. Ye’ll have to make love to her. She cannae hate yer touch.

Aye. Aye, that was it.

Tonight, before he went to her room, he would pull from hiding some of the manuals he’d studied over the years. The ones which explained the sensitive parts of a woman’s body, and how to worship them properly. He would be prepared.

Alistair forced his breathing into some semblance of control. His cock was livid at his decision to wait, but it wasn’t the first time. Instead of giving in—instead of kissing her again, when Olivia blinked up at him with those swollen lips he’d already ravished once—he reached up and unlinked her hands from behind his neck.

Then he rolled his head to loosen his muscles, and tucked his bewildered bride’s arm through his. He turned them both toward the door, silently told his cockstand in no uncertain terms that it only had to wait until the darkness could hide his scars, and took a deep breath.

There’d be time enough, soon, in the darkness, to finish what they’d started.

He just had to wait until tonight.

For now, he was ready to get married.

Chapter 6

Olivia decided, quite selfishly, that she could get used to being a Duchess.

After the hurried ceremony—no, wait, after that kiss.

Let’s back up and talk about that kiss for a bit, eh?

“I’m not talking about it,” she announced to her empty—just tremendous—chamber. But I can darn well think about it.

It had been…

Wow.

Yes. Yes, wow seemed to sum it up quite nicely.

She hadn’t intended to go into his study and kiss him; she’d only wanted his reassurance she could continue her life’s work after their marriage. After all, her newspaper was the entire point of her marrying the man. But once she’d received his agreement, she’d been…rather carried away.

Her first kiss.

It had been…rather more than she’d expected. In The Book, kissing appeared to be merely a gentle pressing together of lips, perhaps for some time…or perhaps it merely appeared that way since the subjects had been captured, frozen in illustration.

But kissing the Duke of Effinghell had been…

Wow.

Tongues had been involved, and who knew a man’s lips could be so much rougher than hers…and yet feel oh so very perfect?

And his beard! He kept it trimmed short, but the bristles had brushed up against her skin and caused her to shiver.

He’s coming for you, soon.

The thought made Olivia shiver again, this time in anticipation.

Since she was alone in the room, she hugged herself and gave an excited little shimmy. And, since there was no one to see, she gave a little spin, causing her nightgown to billow out, although she managed to refrain from squealing.

When she slowed, her eyes fell on the bed.