Chapter 3
Her dressing gown was rather transparent, crafted of fine silk that left little to the imagination. Verity observed herself in the long, beveled mirror in her new bedroom, taking note of how much detail of her naked form the clinging fabric revealed.
Excellent.
She had seen the way her new husband’s eyes had lovingly clung to her body earlier. She knew he was at war with himself, trying to be a gentleman. In this skirmish, she was the enemy, she supposed. She had waited far too long for this night, this moment, and it wasn’t a gentleman she wanted.
It was King.
The wicked savior, the jaded rake, the man to whom her heart belonged and now the rest of her too. Forever.
There were things she knew she should not long for—sinful things, whispered, secret things.
Things that she only read about in the bawdy books she privately devoured.
And she was not surrendering her desire for those things.
He was her husband at long last, and she wasn’t meekly, quietly going to bed in her own room.
Had he no notion of whom he had married? Perhaps not if he believed she would.
No, she was going to meet him in his room, and they were going to consummate this marriage. She nodded at herself, summoning all the daring she possessed. Who would have believed that she, a novice, would be tasked with seducing her own husband on her wedding night?
Verity smoothed both hands over her unbound locks, and with a deep breath, she turned back to the door adjoining her chamber with King’s, only to find him standing there at the threshold. Their eyes met, the searing intensity of his gaze sending a jolt of awareness through her.
How long had he been watching?
She decided that it didn’t matter.
“Come,” he said, his voice low and pleasant and deep, sending a thrill down her spine.
He extended his hand to her, palm up, and she found herself moving toward him as if in a dream.
This was what she had waited for, what she had longed for these last two months.
Her heart beat with such strong, pent-up love in that moment that she could scarcely think.
A handful of steps and she stood before him, placing her hand in his.
The connection of their bare skin made her breath quicken. How strange, for this touch was far more innocent than his hands on her bottom had been mere minutes ago. But her mind had still been sluggish from sleep then, and she hadn’t been fully capable of comprehending the gravity of the situation.
She’d been naked before her husband, without shame.
Maman had told her to behave with propriety in all regards, that her husband would expect his wife to comport herself in a manner befitting her status as duchess. Verity had ignored her advice, thinking she knew King better.
But now she wondered, doubting herself. Had she shocked him? Disappointed him?
“I should apologize for my presumption earlier,” she said as he led her back into his private domain. “I shouldn’t have disrobed.”
“You needn’t apologize on my behalf. Indeed, if there is anywhere you ought to disrobe and await me naked, it is here in my bedroom.
” He grinned as he brought her hand to his lips for a fervent kiss.
“I must beg your pardon for keeping you waiting so long that you fell asleep. It was badly done of me.”
The practiced seducer had returned. Had she taken him by surprise earlier?
It seemed impossible for a man of his legendary prowess.
And yet, there was no denying the lack of polish he’d exhibited, as if his rakish mask had lowered for a few moments and she had been treated to the man within, the one who held her heart.
He was complex, her husband. But how fortunate she was that of all the women in London he might have chosen to wed, he had selected her.
“Perhaps I can be persuaded to forgive you,” she managed breathlessly, every part of her acutely reacting to him, from the tightness in her breasts and the way her nipples had hardened to points beneath her dressing gown, to the ache deep within her.
He watched her now with hooded eyes, his dark gaze glittering with untold sensual promise as he kissed her knuckles, one by one. “I think I know a means of persuasion you’ll find most enlivening.”
A pang of desire made her core clench. “You do?”
Slowly, with meticulous care, he straightened her forefinger and brought it to his lips before sucking it into the hot recesses of his mouth.
She felt that suck between her thighs. Felt it all the way to her toes.
Her stomach felt as if it performed a flip as his tongue flitted against her fingertip.
She could do nothing but watch in rapt, speechless fascination as he withdrew her finger, leaving it wet in the cool evening air before nipping the fleshy pad lightly with his teeth. “Yes, angel. I do.”
She licked her lips, searching for words that eluded her, her mind momentarily wiped free of all language. “Oh.”
He gave her a slow grin that melted something inside her. “But first, I’ve decided that since you’re here, there’s no need to ring for Hutchens. You shall serve as my valet this evening.”
“I shall?”
“Yes.” Holding her gaze, he overturned her hand, revealing her palm, and pressed a kiss to the center. “You shall.”
He kissed to the edge of her sleeve, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist. Her knees threatened to give out. Was it hot in the room? She was suddenly overheated. Perhaps she was going to swoon.
“But how?” she managed. “I have no notion of what a valet does.”
King guided her hands to the buttons of his perfectly tailored coat. “Begin here.”
Her fingers moved against the fine fabric, plucking the buttons from their moorings. He was still dressed as he had been for dinner, in an elegant black evening suit and white shirt, his neckcloth perfectly tied, his waistcoat a shimmery silver with matching buttons bisecting the front.
Slowly, trying not to allow his proximity and smoldering gaze to affect her, she worked the jacket over his broad shoulders and down his long, well-muscled arms. Heat radiated from his shirtsleeves, and she could feel for the first time the corded muscles hiding beneath his elegant dress.
When the coat was removed, she held it up, noting it still bore his body heat and subtle scent.
“Where shall I put it?” Verity asked.
“Hang it over the back of the chair. Hutchens shall see to it in the morning.”
She did as he suggested, carefully laying the garment over the back of a chair flanking the hearth, smoothing the wrinkles from it.
“Now my pocket watch.”
She turned back to him, abandoning the jacket, heart pounding faster again. He wore a timepiece on a gold chain tucked into the pocket on his waistcoat, the watch engraved with his coat of arms. She had seen it before, when he had checked the time, but removing it for him felt so very intimate.
With trembling fingers, she unhooked the watch and chain, taking it off before placing the timepiece upon a nearby table. When she was once more before him, he reached for her, startling her by catching the locket at her throat in his fingers.
“May I take this off?”
His request took her aback. She never took off her necklace. Surely he knew that by now, for he had given it to her.
“I don’t remove it.”
But he was already reaching for the clasp at her nape. “For me?”
Well. Since it was a gift from him and he was the one making the request…
“Very well.” Something nagged at her, some indistinct concern.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been wearing the locket for many years, that it was of devastating import and that removing it felt inherently wrong. But that was foolish. Likely more of her confusion after the blow to her head.
One deft motion and King had removed it, placing it on the table beside his pocket watch with great care.
Her neck felt strangely bereft, but then he reached for her hands again, placing them on the buttons of his waistcoat, and she was distracted by the way he felt, so strong and lean.
How delicious it was to touch him thus and to know he was her husband now.
The buttons slid free until she divested him of the garment and draped it atop his discarded dinner jacket.
He still looked formal and perfectly dressed as he toed off his polished shoes, standing before her in stockinged feet, towering over her.
She took a moment to drink in the sight of him, to savor this moment.
“Am I being a good valet?” she asked.
“A good valet would also remove my neckcloth.”
“Ah, yes.” She reached for the knot, employing fumbling efforts to loosen it.
A grin kicked up the corner of his sensual lips. “I trust you have never dealt with a stubborn necktie before.”
“I don’t make a habit of it, no.”
“Take your time, angel,” he advised, standing still, arms at his sides.
“But I am so very impatient.”
His grin bloomed into a full smile. “How gratified I am to know it.”
“Are you not?”
He was exercising remarkable restraint and poise, whilst she was a trembling, impatient mess.
“I’ve never been so deliciously undressed by a lover before. I find the anticipation nothing short of mesmerizing.”
She didn’t like to think of the other lovers he must have had, but it did please Verity immensely to know that no other woman had taken care of him so intimately. That she had been the first he had asked to play valet for him. That she would be the only and last.
Finally, the knot loosened, and she slowly pulled the necktie away, placing it along with the rest of his shed garments.
“Now for the shirt,” he said softly.
More buttons awaited her, taunting her with the promise that when they were removed, she would at last be free to feast her eyes upon his bare chest. To touch him.
To see the differences between his body and hers.
She did not think—at least not in her current recollections—that she had ever seen a man’s naked chest before.