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J ulia’s cheeks were hot with embarrassment. How awful to have had to voice such a question aloud. No wife should be forced to ask if her husband meant to have relations with her.

“No,” William replied.

“Oh.” She lay there awkwardly, unable to sleep and trying not to fidget. The bed had been quite a decent size the prior three nights, fluffy and comfortable and wonderfully large. Now, it appeared to be too small, every movement making her fearful she might bump or brush against him.

Well, maybe that was what she needed to do. If she was going to get with child quickly and be free of this whole marital mess, she had to be brazen enough to take action on her own.

She rolled toward him and put her fingertips to his arm. His nightshirt was thin, and the heat of his solid flesh was a welcome reprieve from the chilled night air. “William?”

“Mmmm…?”

“You’re very warm,” she ventured.

“You may press against me.” His voice was gravelly, suggesting he had already fallen asleep. A ridiculous notion. No one fell asleep that quickly.

She accepted his invitation and rested the length of her body against him. The simple act of putting herself against him immediately heated her icy fingers and toes. A sigh escaped her lips. He was more than warm; he was hot. And strong.

She recalled him without his shirt, the powerful cut of muscle across his broad chest. Emboldened by her goal, she trailed her fingers over his shoulder, below his neck where his skin was uncovered by the shirt, naked. His heartbeat thundered under her touch.

Still he did not react. And he was very clearly not asleep. Of that she was certain.

“Would you like to undress me?” she asked.

“We should play a game,” he said abruptly.

She froze in the exploration of his body. “A game?”

“Yes.” The rich timbre of his voice rumbled under her fingertips. “Tomorrow is the last day of the house party. For every game you win, you will decide what it is we do together. For every game I win, I will decide.”

“That seems fair,” she replied slowly into the dark. She withdrew her hand but did not turn away from the delicious heat of his large frame.

“Best of luck in the morning.” With that, the infuriating man immediately fell asleep.

Julia, however, did not sleep. Not right away at least. Not with William lying beside her, hot and powerful.

A game, indeed.

She’d always been good at them and seemed to possess a considerable amount of luck. It would be simple. She merely needed to win at least once and claim her prize, which would be intercourse. She would become pregnant, deliver a boy, and be done.

It was the perfect plan.

Or so she thought.

The following morning when she awoke, William was already gone. His absence this time was welcome. After an uncomfortable night of sleeping at his side, trying desperately to keep from touching his person with any part of hers, she was all too grateful to be alone.

The door opened and her maid, Edith, entered with a silver salver. The scent of heated chocolate filled the room.

“I’d hoped you’d be awake.” Edith set the tray on the small table before the fire. “His Grace ordered this from the kitchen.” She straightened without bothering to restrain her grin. “He remembered that I’d requested it for you from his cook at Stedton Place. Such a thoughtful gesture.”

Julia pulled herself from bed at the idea of the warm rich cup of chocolate. Her head ached, and her eyes were gritty. The treat was quite welcome to be sure. “Thank you for bringing it up, Edith.”

The maid nodded and slipped from the room to give Julia time to enjoy the hot beverage. It was considerate of him.

And it was not his only thoughtful gesture throughout the day.

He ordered a shawl brought down for her while she read in the library, even though he wasn’t in there to see if she would get a chill.

He complimented her on her new gown as she made her way to luncheon.

In fact, it appeared he was intentionally going out of his way to bestow her with kindness.

And he most likely was.

If you still believe me to be a man who will not be loyal, and who will not love you faithfully by the time you have delivered our son, then yes, I will allow it.

His words from the night before came back to her, so carefully and purposefully stated, she knew at once what he was about. He was trying to woo her.

The idea ached to the core. If she were a different woman, one whose doubt could be as easily persuaded as her heart, it would all be so lovely. But she did not believe it possible to let go of that fear.

Wooing did not obliterate the possibility of being hurt.

One’s husband, as it turned out, was impossible to avoid. William was everywhere. In their room throughout the day, passing her in the hall with a lingering smile, excelling at all masculine sports the men ventured throughout the day.

When readying for dinner, they did not talk, but he did take nearly twice as long as her to prepare. The care in his appearance was impossible not to notice, the smoothness of his sharp jawline, the immaculate combing on his hair that made one want to muss it.

Lord Venerton was in attendance at dinner, having made a full recovery. He sat beside his sullen wife, whose sparkle was relegated to her fortune of gemstones.

Without her constant interruption, William devoted his attention to Julia.

And if she was being entirely honest, she was not unaffected by her husband’s affection, despite her resolve to remain so.

He was a handsome man, there was no denying that.

It was equally as impossible to ignore those dizzying circles swirling in her stomach.

If only enjoying that sensation did not frighten her. If only the idea of loving him was not so absolutely terrifying.

So, when Lady Bursbury announced dancing would take the place of separating the sexes before games that evening, Julia knew it would be best to not dance with her husband. It was quite fortunate that he slipped away for a moment before they departed for the salon.

Cecelia was occupied by Lord Mortry, and while she looked none too pleased, nor would she be so rude as to put him off.

Julia turned toward Lord Heston. “Perhaps you would care to dance?” she asked quickly, while she had the time to do so.

The marquis paused mid-sip of his claret and set it aside to turn toward her. “With all due respect, Your Grace, it would take an act of God to get me on the dance floor.”

She regretted her request even before he answered. Panic seized her, ridiculous and impossible to ward off. She was the worst kind of woman, undeserving of a man such as her husband.

Fortunately for her, Lord Hesterton cast a furtive glance toward Lady Jane on his other side, obviously having assumed Julia had asked on the younger woman’s behalf.

Before William could return, Julia slipped out of the room and made her way to the library. She would return in time for the games, where she would promptly win and claim her prize. She would bear him an heir, and then settle in the country estate on her own.

For now at least, she could escape to the solitude, and recover her senses.

Or so she thought. For no sooner had the beginning notes of a lively country dance strummed to life in the salon down the hall than the door to the library swept open.

William found the library empty, save for a fluffy white dog sitting at the base of a large set of green drapes. A large set of oddly-shaped green drapes.

“What have you got there, Bruiser?” he asked.

Lord Bursbury’s dog gave a sharp yap.

“Is it an intruder that ought to be taken down?”

The shape behind the green velvet gave a little jolt. Bruiser barked again.

William crossed the room to stand by the covered windows. “Or is it a lovely duchess who has a penchant for feeding small hungry beasts, and is clearly attempting to escape the company of her husband?”

Bruiser’s stubby tail waggled with such excited force, his entire body rocked side to side. Julia unfurled herself from behind the cloth, the tilt of her chin indignant.

“I was not attempting to escape your company,” she declared.

William lifted a brow. “I can presume there was another logical explanation for your placement behind the draperies?”

“I was…studying the fabric. I believe we need some drapes like these in our library.” She rubbed the heavy velvet between her thumb and forefinger, her lips pursed in consideration.

“We most definitely do. They’re quite heavy.

Will you feel them?” She drew the material upright, extending it in his direction.

He did not take the fabric. “You were avoiding me.”

“You are trying to woo me.” She released the velvet and the panel swept back into place with a whoosh, giving Bruiser but a quick second to leap from its path.

“I am.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t even bother to deny it.”

“Why should I? You’re my wife.”

“You know why.” Her cheeks flushed. “Forgive me, but I do not think I can change.”

“I don’t believe that for a moment.”

She blinked in surprise at him.

“Otherwise why would you avoid dancing with me?” He stepped toward her, closing the distance that felt far too cold for his liking. “Why would you tuck yourself behind the draperies when you knew I’d be pursuing you?”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you expect me to answer these questions?”

“No.” He gave her a half smile. “I already know the answers.”

“Do you?” Her gaze drifted down to his mouth.

He lowered his face closer to hers. “I do.”

“Please, elucidate me.” The words were breathy with anticipation.

She thought he meant to kiss her. And he wanted to.

God, how he wanted to. The prior night, sleeping beside her, knowing she was there and not touching her, it had driven him to distraction.

Certainly, it had resulted in him not getting a wink of sleep.

Not when he kept thinking of her slender fingertips wandering over his naked chest. He’d wanted them to wander lower, to grow bolder in exploration, more sensual.

But he needed her to want him, truly want him. He’d already broken through her shabbily erected defenses at dinner. It had been evident in the softening of her tense mouth, the genuine mirth in her quiet laughter.

He lowered his face closer still, their lips only a whisper apart. Her breath caught, and her lashes swept over her flushed cheeks.

“You’re frightened,” he said quietly.

Her eyes flew open. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re afraid I’ll succeed in wooing you.”

She leaned away from him, but he slipped his arm behind her slender back to still her from retreating.

“I know what you want, Julia.”

“Of course you do.” She arched her body against his, her feminine softness to his masculine hardness. “I already told you what I want.”

Oh, she was sweet in his arms. Her delicate orange blossom scent teased at his resolve; her beautiful mouth parted in innocent longing. Far too tempting. He lowered his mouth to hers, stopping just before they touched.

And then he released her.

She stepped back, dazed.

“I hear games will be following the dancing.” He bowed to her. “I wish you luck in our wager, my duchess.”

With that, he strode from the room and left her standing beside those blasted draperies. He had only returned to the salon for a moment before Julia joined him with Bruiser trailing along behind her like a furry white shadow.

“I have it on good authority we will be playing charades this evening,” she said by way of greeting. “I happen to be quite good at charades.”

“And I happen to be quite good at the Petronella reel.” He offered her his hand. “Would you be so kind as to join me?”

She accepted with an obvious hesitation that quickly melted away as soon as they were on the dance floor. Her sincere enjoyment of dance was one of the many things that had caught his eye about her and led to him begging an introduction from Lady Bursbury in the first place.

Following the Petronella reel was the game of charades in the drawing room. Julia was correct; she was exceptionally good at charades, her sharp wit detailing every word broken to pieces and reassembled.

Except he was better. So, when the game had drawn to a close and every participant of the house party was returning to their chamber for a final night of slumber, he found himself the victor with a prize to claim.