Her eyes fluttered open, blue as a summer sky, confusion momentarily clouding them before recognition dawned. She stiffened slightly, then relaxed, a becoming blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Good morning,” she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.
“Indeed, it is,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Though I believe ‘afternoon’ might be more accurate.”
She bolted upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. “Afternoon? Surely not!”
“Nearly noon, at least.” He chuckled, enjoying her dismay. “It seems I’ve thoroughly exhausted you, my tigress.”
Her blush deepened. “You are insufferable.”
“And yet here you are, suffering my presence quite admirably.” He traced the line of her shoulder with idle fingers, delighting in the way her skin pebbled at his touch. “In fact, if I recall correctly, you were begging for more of it just hours ago.”
“Ewan!” She swatted his hand away, though he caught the smile she tried to suppress. “You are incorrigible.”
“Another of my many charms,” he agreed, pulling her back down beside him. “One you seemed quite appreciative of last night.”
Her expression softened as she settled against him once more. “I was, wasn’t I?”
The way she looked at him then—trusting, open, without guile—struck him more powerfully than he could have anticipated. For years, he had maintained careful distance from anyone who might breach his defenses, yet here she was, effortlessly dismantling walls he had spent a lifetime constructing.
“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to her temple, inhaling the scent of her into his lungs. “Are you hungry? I could ring for breakfast.”
“Luncheon, you mean,” she corrected primly, though her eyes danced with amusement. “And yes, I’m famished.”
He smiled, pressing the bell to summon a servant before turning back to her. “I must admit, I’ve never been one for idle mornings in bed, but I find I’m rather enjoying this one.”
She glanced at him curiously. “Never?”
“Never.” The admission came more easily than he expected. “I’ve always preferred… efficiency in such matters.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes. “You mean you’ve never stayed the night with a woman before?”
“Not since I became duke, no.” He watched her carefully, uncertain how she would receive this confidence. “It seemed… unnecessary.”
“Unnecessary,” she repeated, the word carrying a hint of her usual sharpness.
“You disapprove,” he noted, not a question but an observation.
“I find it rather sad,” she replied with unexpected candor. “To share one’s body but never truly connect.”
He considered this, struck by the simplicity of her assessment. “Perhaps I never wished to connect.”
“Oh? And now?” Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if she feared his answer.
Before he could respond, a discrete knock at the door interrupted them. Ewan called for the servants to enter, and twomaids appeared with a tray laden with food, their eyes carefully averted from the disheveled bed.
“Place it on the table by the window,” he instructed, noting with amusement how Samantha clutched the sheets higher, her cheeks flaming anew.
Once the maids had departed, he rose, unabashed in his nakedness, and retrieved his dressing gown from where it had been flung the night before. Donning it loosely, he brought the tray to the bed.
“To answer your question,” he said, settling beside her once more, “now I find I rather enjoy the connection.”
She smiled then, a true smile that transformed her face and sent that strange ache resonating through his chest again. “As do I.”
They shared the meal in companionable silence, and he found himself occasionally feeding his duchess morsels with a playfulness he’d never before permitted himself totrulyfeel.
When a drop of honey slid from the edge of the spoon and landed upon her collarbone, the golden bead caught in the hollow just above her breast, glistening in the rays of the morning. He followed its path with his eyes, then leaned forward to capture it with the slow drag of his tongue, savoring the way her sharp intake of breath shivered against his lips.
