Page 66 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

He reached for her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the delicate knuckles, drawing sheer delight from the sudden intake of her breath. He raised his eyes to hers and saw how the black in them had expanded to almost cover the warm honey.

It would have been so easy to pull her to him, to lay his lips on hers before he laid her on the grass and spread her before himlike his own personal feast. He would make sure she enjoyed it, too…

“We…should eat,” she murmured. “Are you not the least bit hungry?”

He allowed the corners of his lips to tilt up in a smile. “Famished.”

For her. The sweet taste of Phoebe Montgomery.His wife.

Charles had seen men who had fallen into depravity. Men who had surrendered themselves to the dark embrace of opium, spending their miserable lives in sunless dens, barely even human.

Phoebe had become his opium, holding him in her thrall, ensnaring his senses. He could only hope that she would be a more merciful mistress than the drug.

Her fingers curled around his. “Come, then.”

Willingly, he followed her. Even if she was to lead him to a pit, Charles would follow her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Phoebe led him to the blanket that had been spread with a variety of breads and cuts of meat, fruits, and nuts. There was even a flask of tea for Phoebe and another one of coffee for himself.

She handed him a plate and piled it high with his favorite foods.

“Eat,” she commanded him cheerfully. “I will not have you ruining our picnic if you become grumpy from hunger.”

“I do not indulge in such displays as grumpiness,” he protested.

“No, you merely sulk and glare at anything that breathes!” she giggled, picking up a sugared almond from the bowl.

He did not deign to reply to that accusation, choosing instead to nip at the almond in her hand, while Phoebe looked at him in shock.

“Rogue!” she chided him, shaking her head.

And yet, he did not miss the way her nostrils flared gently or the way her eyes darkened with desire. A most becoming flush spread up from her chest to lend her cheeks a rosy glow.

Moments later, after they had eaten their fill—and Charles had stolen his share from her fingers—they laid together on the blanket, the food cleared and hastily packed away into the basket. Above them, the endlessly blue sky was dotted with puffy clouds that floated past the vast expanse of the heavens. Every once in a while, Phoebe would point at a cloud, claiming it looked like this or that animal or some other ridiculous thing.

“And that one looks like Lord Strathmore in yet another of his funny hats!” she giggled, pointing at a cloud that had been stretched out somewhat.

Charles had never before tried to relate clouds to other things, but he had to admit that this one did indeed look like the ridiculous count in another of his feathered hats—once he got past the sheer pleasure of Phoebe’s hand in his, her warm body pressed close to his side.

Unable to bear the torture any longer, he rolled over to his side and stared intently at her. Confused, she blinked her wide, innocent eyes up at him.

“Is something amiss?” she asked him.

“Nothing,” he murmured hoarsely. “Just something I had been wanting to do ever since I walked into your bedchamber this morning.”

“And what did you want to—”

He cut off her words with a fierce kiss, pressing his hardened body to her pliant one. In response, Phoebe let out a soft moan and threw her arms behind his neck, returning his kiss with as much passion as she was capable of.

Her untutored reply sent a bolt of pure desire straight down to his groin and he deepened their kiss, his tongue delving into the honeyed depths of her mouth with expert ease. He clutched a fistful of her skirts and slowly began to draw it up her legs, exposing her stocking-clad feet, her ankles, her shapely calves. Higher still to her thighs.

“Charles,” she protested. “Are you sure we can do it out here?”

So innocent.

His grin was purely male and feral. “Of course, my sweet one. Nobody will come out here at this time.”