Page 52 of My Dearest Duke

They were a symphony of contrasts.

Creamy and sun-bronzed. Firm and soft. Rounded and lean.

She gasped.

“Easy,” Kingston whispered into her hair, grazing his rough fingertips over her shoulders as if easing a skittish horse.

Her heart settled into its proper place once more, anticipation replacing her disquiet.

After rotating her to face him, he began pulling the pins from her hair.

She ran her fingertips experimentally over the hard, puckered scars covering his back and shoulders.

How he must’ve suffered.

When he’d tossed aside the last hairpin, Kingston fanned her hair over her bare shoulders and chest. Catching a strand between his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed the tendril.

“I adore your hair, love. It’s spun moonbeams.”

Kingston brushed his mouth over hers, flicking his tongue out to lick the seam of her lips.

In a deft move, he laid her upon the settee and angled himself beside her. Brushing a hand over her face, he stared into her eyes. Eyes so full of tenderness that it brought a rush of moisture to hers.

Lord, how she loved this man.

“You only have to tell me, and I vow I’ll stop. We won’t do anything you don’t wish to, Vanessa.”

“I told you, Kingston. I want this.” Curving her mouth into a tender smile, she pressed her lips to the pulse jumping at the juncture of his throat. “I want to remain your wife.”

He looked at her for a long, compelling moment, his gaze inscrutable, and Vanessa knew he fought an inner battle.

Would he choose them?

A future together, forever and always?

Please, God.

He must, for she didn’t know how she’d live without him now that he’d burrowed his way into her heart.

“You are an unqualified wonder, Mrs. Barclay.”

Understanding dawned, and joy winged through her.

Then Kingston’s hands and mouth were everywhere, all at once.

“I love you, Vanessa.”