Page 29 of The Duke's Only Desire

Shay bit his tongue to keep from cursing. He wasn’t daft, and Pearson wasn’t subtle. “I have no intention of waking the duchess tonight.”

“Yes, sir,” Pearson agreed. But the deflated way the soldier-turned-valet replied didn’t hide his concerns—or that the man had clearly taken sides already in Shay’s new marriage.

He and Pearson had been through hell together, first as comrades-in-arms, then when Shay was promoted to colonel and had Pearson named as his aid-de-camp. Together, they’d seen some of the bloodiest fighting on the Peninsula, only to suffer even more together after the fire. Shay would lay down his life for Pearson, and Pearson for him, but he had no intention of explaining his marriage to the man. It was no one’s damned business but his.

“Go to bed,” Shay ordered as he turned toward the stairs hall. “I’ll undress myself tonight.”

“Would you like to sleep in late in the morning, sir?”

Shay tightened his jaw.Thatwasn’t at all subtle. “No. I want to be up and dressed by dawn to ride out early.”

Not at all pleased by the confused expression Pearson failed to hide, Shay strode away and took the stairs three at a time to the second floor.

Yet he paused in the wide hall outside Sophie’s door. His chest ached, and he raised his hand, wanting to knock and wake her, if only to see her before he went to sleep in hopes of having pleasant dreams for once.

See her?He nearly laughed. That was a damnable lie. If she opened her door, with her hair loose and sleepy eyes, a soft night gown covering her bare curves beneath, he would do a hell of a lot more than simply look.

Then he would be damned even more than he was now.

He lowered his hand and silently moved on to his own door, doing his best to ignore the ache for her in his gut that went beyond simple physical release. He loved her, damn it. He loved every precious thing about her, from the way she laughed to how she coldly arched a brow when she was furious.

He loved her so much, in fact, that he couldn’t let himself anywhere near her. After all, she was the reason he’d killed his brother, as surely as if he’d shot a pistol ball into John’s chest. Because he’d been jealous. Because he’d wanted her for himself and would have done anything to have her. Including murdering his own brother.

He might have had to marry her to save her from Norton, but that was as far as their marriage vows could ever extend. Even if she didn’t scream in revulsion at the sight of his scarred body, he had no right to love her, and he sure as hell had no right for her to love him.

But he didn’t have to worry about that.

Because if she ever learned the truth of what happened that night, she would hate him for it forever. No matter how scarred he was.