Page 55 of The Duke's Only Desire

“I had wondered, when I first saw you again in London,” her voice was as gentle as her touch, and just as painful, “how far the scars extended, if they stopped at your neck or if they covered even more of you. And now I know.” She brushed her hand down his chest to his abdomen, to where the scars thinned as they disappeared below his waistband, sagging low over his hips. “Just as I know that this is the reason you refused to make love to me. You think these scars are your punishment for desiringme—worse, you let them become a wall between us, an excuse to keep your distance.”

“You should have better than a monster for a husband.” His voice was raw and gravelly. “You should have better than to have this body touching yours.”

Her hand stilled on his body as her eyes rose to meet his, looking upon him now with a look of understanding. “I love you, Shay, and my feelings for you have nothing to do with how you look. I fell in love with your soul and your heart, your kindness, your bravery… Do you think I’d let a few scars keep me away from all that?”

“It’s far more than a few scars.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his words.

“So it is.” She placed her hand on his chest, right over his heart, and curled her fingertips into the muscle. His heartbeat spiked. “But I don’t care. I love you despite these scars. Perhaps…I love you even more now that you have them.”

He began to laugh at how ludicrous that was, only for the sound to choke in his throat when she lowered her head and placed a kiss to his chest.

He inhaled sharply, the pain unbearable, only for it to soothe away, little by little, as she continued to kiss his chest and then his shoulders. Kisses so tender and gentle that he could barely feel them, but each one pulsed deep inside him, stirring a delicious desire not only to let himself love her but to bring back to life the man who had been dead inside him since the fire. Perhaps since long before that.

“These scars are not your punishment, Shay,” her lips whispered against his chest. “And I won’t let you turn them into mine, either.”

“Sophie,” he pleaded, his hands clenching at her arms.

“Don’t,” she repeated his word of warning and stopped him from pushing her away by stepping into his arms and lifting uponto her tiptoes to bring her mouth to his. The kiss she gave him now wasn’t at all the gentle, seeking kisses with which she’d covered his chest and shoulders. This one was filled with need and hunger, and with a frustration so palpable it grated at his heart. “Don’t keep yourself from me a moment longer.”

She snaked her arms up around his neck and pressed herself so tightly against his scarred chest that he could feel the soft flesh of her breasts flattening against him, the heat of her seeping through her flannel gown. His name was a whisper on her lips as she opened her mouth in tempting invitation. A groan rose from his throat. When he thrust his tongue between her lips, a shivering moan of unbridled need for him spilled from her.

Unable to resist a moment longer, Shay lowered himself to his knees at her feet.