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Mutely, Alistair nodded.

When she walked toward him the robe parted in the front, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of a pale calf. He remembered what she’d felt like, spread naked beneath him, and his cock began to harden.

He shifted the book to cover his growing erection.

She must have misunderstood his stare, because she glanced down at herself. “Do you like it?” Olivia’s hand smoothed the white silk. “I found it in the wardrobe. Each day more clothing appears. I think your mother must secretly employ an army of seamstresses.”

No’ so secretly.

“I thought it looked quite fetching.”

Fetching?

She looked…

Like a siren.

Sweet, almost virginal, in that color. But with her curls down around her shoulders and her full lower lip just begging to be kissed…

Alistair suddenly cursed the cockstand which made it awkward to stand. He wanted to take her in his arms, to show her what he could do.

But he’d hesitated too long, because her chin rose once more and she took a deep breath. “I came to find you. Last night— I… Last night…” She shook her head and tried again. “I came to inquire if you would be coming to my bed tonight.”

Even if he could speak, he wasn’t sure what he could say in response to that. He was embarrassed? He didn’t want to fail?

He was a duke.

Alistair couldn’t afford to fail. Couldn’t afford embarrassment.

Apparently, whatever he hadn’t said disappointed her, because her gaze flicked to the port, the cozy fire, and the book in his lap.

“I can see, however, you had other plans.”

He opened his mouth, but stopped himself before he could further make a fool of himself.

Rather than being irritated, Olivia’s chin rose once more. She stepped closer to the hearth until she was standing in the center of the ornate rug.

And she released the collar of her dressing gown.

Alistair swallowed as the delicate material gaped open, revealing an enticing glimpse of the valley between her breasts.

His mouth watered at the memory of her taste.

Before he could fully comprehend, she’d untied the knot at her waist…

And somehow, the white silk fell off her shoulders, to pool at her feet, leaving nothing but her.

Dear.

Jesus.

Fook.

Alistair hadn’t realized he’d risen half out of the chair until the book hit the ground by his stockinged feet, and he froze.

She was…

His mouth watered again.