Page 123 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days

What could she confess? What should she withhold? He could have been killed. He deserved to know… something.

If not everything.

But it wasn’t only her secret to tell. Jean-Yves was on his own native soil for the first time in years. They could arrest him right away should his part in de Marchand’s death be revealed. Francesca and Cecelia were who-knew-where, and she didn’t know how to get word to them should things go awry.

If she told now… Redmayne could protect her. He might know what to do.

If she told him now… he could react like any numberof men would. He’d take control from her. He’d stampede over a situation she’d balanced so carefully and tear it wide open, dooming her friends and damning himself in the process.

And the worst scenario of all…

If she told him now… he could condemn her. Turn her in to the authorities and be done with her. Pick another wife, a virgin one, and get as many heirs as he needed upon someone else.

Alexandra searched his face, watching a storm build in his eyes as similar clouds gathered in the north sky.

Surely he wouldn’t. Not after the vows he’d made, after the intimacies they’d shared.

She couldn’t deny the bond threading through the space between them. She wanted to trust that he wouldn’t turn on her.

They were going into Le Havre tomorrow to get her money. Hopefully she could negotiate new terms with her tormentor. She could find out what her blackmailer ultimately wanted from her.

If it came down to it, she’d sacrifice herself for them. For him.

They always spoke of trust, didn’t they? Perhaps she could show him a little.

Seized by an agony of indecision, she chewed on the inside of her lip. “I—I wanted to speak with you about the dig…”

“I’m not simply referring to the dig, Alexandra,” he growled, throwing his arms wide to present her with his magnificent form. “I’m asking you. Demanding of you, an honest answer!”

“I’m trying to tell you—”

“Would you have me like this?” He gestured to his features. “With nothing? Would you be my wife, even if youwere not a duchess? Would you still dig for me with your bare hands if you didn’t need my heir in order to spend my fortune? Can you remain with me even if it means those who want what’s mine might try to take it by any means? Because if you’re hurt, I don’t think I can—”

“Yes,dammit,” she hissed, realizing they were both having a different conversation, but his needed to be addressed so he could calm himself enough to hear her. If he wanted some truths, these she could give. “You’re big and arrogant, wicked and bad-tempered, and I… I can’t help but want to spend every single moment by your side. So, stop being so bloody overbearing and listen to me for just one—”

Redmayne seized her, compelling her silence with his descending lips. His kiss was an erotic demand and possessive embrace as he propelled them both toward the cliff wall without breaking their intimate contact. He devoured her, ravished her mouth, drawing her lips open with his thumb and thrusting his tongue inside.

His big body drove her against the cliff, his arms plunging beneath her arms to cup the back of her head and shoulders, protecting her from the earth.

He was like a human incinerator, immolating her with his carnal heat.

Alexandra felt light-headed, not only disoriented by the swiftness of his kiss, but by the change in him. This was no patient, roguish seduction. This man grinding her against his very powerful, very naked body heeded no rules and brokered no patience.

He’d become a creature of raw, animalian need.

It wasn’t until he leaned his hips against her that Alexandra realized his towel no longer remained around his hips. He rotated his pelvis in slow, erotic circles, the ridgeof his erection much larger now than when he’d emerged from the sea.

Terrifyingly so.

He broke their kiss to drag his lips down her jaw. “My God, wife,” he moaned. “I can’t take another moment of this. Of wanting.” His hands tangled in her hair as he abraded her sensitive skin with his beard before soothing it with his lips. “The idea that I could have died without making love to you is untenable. Impossible.”

Oversensitized and overwhelmed, Alexandra placed her hands on his biceps, hoping to anchor herself into this moment. Trying to keep time from falling away beneath her, merging this moment and another.

The past didn’t belong here. Not in his embrace.

She did everything she could to rein in her galloping heart. To gulp air into her lungs. He was her husband. He was kind and considerate and… she had nothing to fear.

She did not… fear… him.