Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

H ugh dipped his pen in his ink and glanced across at where Evangeline was sitting, legs over the side of the chair in the most unladylike manner, her nose in a book.

The late afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and there was a sense of peace in the library that he had rarely felt.

Ordinarily, he would have replied to the piles of correspondence in his study, but when at breakfast Evangeline had asked him, hopefully, what his plans were for the day, he couldn't bring himself to deny her this.

He was getting soft.

Duncan, damn him, would laugh if he ever found out that Hugh was adjusting his schedule to accommodate the wife he'd never wanted to marry.

Evangeline glanced up at him, her eyes glinting with mischief when she found his gaze on her.

"Am I distracting you, husband?" she asked primly.

He leaned back in his chair. "I'm merely enjoying the view. In my study, I looked out over the beach; today, I'm looking out over you."

"In your study, you also occasionally looked out over me," she said, casting her gaze down so her lashes were half-moons on her cheeks. "Would you like a repeat of that?"

"While that is admittedly tempting, I would rather have you here."

She tilted her neck, giving him a view down her décolletage. "For what reason?"

They hadn't been intimate since the ball the previous night, and he was trying to weigh it up in his mind—whether it was worth risking this now, with her, letting it go where it naturally would, or whether it would inevitably prove to be a mistake.

Thus far, he hadn't decided.

He wasn't sure if he was ever going to be able to resist. The temptation of her—having had her, knowing what it was like—would be too much.

"No particular reason," he said. "Only that I have no intention of anyone else seeing what I had the privilege to see last night."

She flushed. "You didn't see very well in the dark."

"I saw perfectly well, I can assure you."

"You didn't see all of me," she said coyly.

"I did not," he said, finally laying down his pen. Perhaps later he would attempt to work—or perhaps he would give up the endeavor entirely. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes," she said, and he loved her lack of guile—her utter conviction of what she wanted. "But not until you're done with your letter-writing. Who are you writing to, anyway?" Putting her book down, she came to perch on the edge of his desk. "Are they interesting letters?"

"Only to those receiving them—and often not even then. They're responses to inquiries, intelligence on news of the estate and its workings, and letters resolving issues some of my tenants have had. And some are invitations."

"For whom?"

"Those I would like to meet with to discuss various aspects of the farm work on the estate."

He did not mention the letters to Duncan, or the letters he had written out—with great satisfaction—to Sandhurst, demanding immediate repayment of his debts, with the appropriate repercussions if he failed to follow through.

As he said before, there were some things a wife did not need to know.

"You are always so busy," she said now, trailing her hand along the back of her neck. "Do you ever think of taking a break?"

Until he had met her, never. "What do you suggest?"

"A walk on the beach, perhaps?" She raised her brows suggestively. "It's a sunny day, after all."

"I can deny you nothing when you ask me like that." With a smile, he rose from his chair and extended a hand to her. "Let us explore the beach properly—you have only been bathing in a very specific location."

"Yes, the one where you could spy on me properly." Laughing, she tugged him out of the room. "And it worked. I'll never forget the way you stormed out to tell me to cease swimming."

"That was in part prompted by your clear disregard for personal safety," he said stiffly.

"And in part prompted by your dislike of anyone else seeing me in the nude?"

"A natural inclination for a man, I would have said."

"Even if there was no one there to look?"

"I'd have flayed anyone alive who did."

"I wasn't being unsafe," she said, pressing a finger to her chin. "No matter what your opinions on the matter were. The water is cold enough I didn't want to be in it for long—or to go very deep."

"Then we shall have to rectify that, won't we," Hugh said, surprising himself as he did so. This was the last thing he had ever supposed he might say. "Shall we?"

* * *

Evangeline could hardly believe her luck as Hugh handed her down the narrow path from the castle down to the beach. This was the first time they had visited the beach together. On occasion, early in the morning, she had looked out to see him riding across the sand, but always when she had approached the subject, he had been far too busy with his estate.

Something had changed between them. The intimacy she had felt, that sense of oneness, at the ball, had resulted in this. And she couldn't be happier.

"You must take off your boots," she said as they reached the sand, already slipping off her shoes and stockings.

"As though I would ever consider ruining my boots over this," he said with a healthy level of disdain, removing his meticulously polished Hessians and leaving them to one side.

"Don't tell me you've done this before?"

"Ruined my boots with salt water?"

"Walked on the beach in your bare feet. Had fun ."

"Is that your definition?"

"Is it not yours?" She wiggled her toes in the soft sand beside the dunes. "I love the beach and the ocean. It's a place of possibilities."

"Did you never visit the beach when you were younger?"

"Never. I spent much of my life split between Oxfordshire and Kent, and my parents hardly believed in the power of the sea air to cure the ailment of being poverty-stricken."

"I more meant for your enjoyment."

"Haven't you heard enough about my parents to know that my enjoyment was never high on their list of priorities?" She reached out a hand for his, smiling when he took it. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Hearing about my sister—I suppose it made me sad."

"Why is that something to apologize for?"

"Because it's not a reflection of how I feel here."

He glanced at her sidelong. "Do you think that I believe you should utterly relinquish your former home when coming here to be my wife?"

"Is that not what you said?"

"I said in front of strangers and the people of this land, you should appear to prize it beyond all other things. And of course, I hope you might come to love it in its own right. But in private—I understand you may have… feelings."

No doubt the concept of this was unfamiliar to him. He sounded uncomfortable even mentioning feelings at all.

Still. She could appreciate the validation.

"Thank you," she said. "And for my part, please accept my apology. I had not meant to lose control of my emotions."

"We all do things we regret on occasion. But you have nothing to apologize for. Unless you had preferred that I also apologize."

"No," she said, a little too quickly. "I also think there is nothing for you to apologize for."

"Well then."

They reached a small outcropping of rocks where Evangeline had taken to leaving her clothes during her ventures into the sea. Hugh dropped her hand and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

Evangeline gasped, half laughing. "You were being serious?"

"I was. The sun is shining, is it not? And as you have so often pointed out, there is no one here to see us."

Her first time seeing the duke without his clothes. Her stomach squirmed with excitement. Although she knew she would not be the first—men like Hugh did not save themselves for marriage, never mind the fact that he had a decade on her, near enough—the thought that this would be the first time still sent flutters of nervousness through her.

A man's body held so many secrets. And she was to see it for the first time. Wholly hers. Wholly within reach.

"Are you not intending to undress?" he asked, tugging his shirt off his head.

"Not yet," she said, coming forward and resting her hand on his bare chest.

A small gesture, but it felt daring. There was some dark hair there, soft against her palm. He stilled under her, but she could still feel the pounding of his heart, and the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

"Your skin is warm," she said.

"Despite all evidence to the contrary, I am in fact of flesh and blood, just like you."

"What evidence is there to the contrary?"

His eyes were dark as they stared down at her, despite the sunshine. "I know the rumors about me. That I am cold and cruel, a monster by another name."

The other name, she supposed, was a duke.

"You are no monster to me," she whispered.

"And what evidence do you have to go by? One small trip to the beach? The consummation of our marriage?" His eyes were burning now. "Forgive me if I don't think that's proof enough."

Evangeline remembered what Margaret had said about Hugh's father, the man he had been. "Do you truly believe you're a monster?"

"Nothing so fanciful. But do I believe I am a cold man? Yes, Evangeline. All proof points to that."

She tipped her head back so she could look at him. Admittedly, the first time they met, she had believed the rumors, and he had seemed that way to her. But now she could see the man underneath, and he was very human.

"I have seen no evidence of this proof you speak of."

"What else can I do to convince you?" His hand came to caress her face. "You think I'm gentle to you, but what if that's selfishness?"

"If it is selfishness, then that merely proves that you care." She reached up, steadying herself on his shoulders, and pressed her mouth to his. "And if you are being kind to me out of selflessness, isn't that proof that you are good?"

"You shouldn't be so determined to think the best of me."

"You shouldn't be so determined to think the worst," she countered. "You are not your father."

Something flashed across his eyes, and before she knew it, he was kissing her, as though something had been unleashed. His hands came to the back of her dress, and he almost ripped it from her. Urgency had him doing the same to his breeches until they were both standing naked before one another.

"You should not think so well of me," he said, but before she could think of an answer, he had picked her up, lying her on the rocks.

The sun was warm against her bare skin, and he took her wrists, holding them in one hand as he reached between her legs with the other.

As she arched her back, he withdrew his hand and instead placed his member at her entrance, pushing inside her with one quick motion. The force of it, unexpected and overwhelming in its pleasure, almost unsettled her.

"The last time, I allowed you control, but now you are mine."

Any soreness dissolved into pleasure as he thrust into her again and again, holding her in place, positioning her so the angle was just right. Holding her down. His hand came to her throat, squeezing until the blood pounded all through her body and she was utterly lost to him.

When she fell apart, he was quick to fall after, withdrawing from her and expelling himself on the sand.

"I am a man possessed," he said, almost seeming to be speaking to himself rather than her. "The moment I've had you, I want you again."

Evangeline sat up, smiling despite herself. There had been a darkness in his tone, but there was nothing dark about the way he'd just had her.

Something swelled in her chest at the sight of him, the conflict on his face. One day, somehow, she would make him see his worth. Not as a machine overseeing the success of his estate, but as a man. Flesh and blood.

"How about we wash off in the sea?" she suggested. "And when we're done, you can have me again, if that's what you desire."

Whatever you desire .

Margaret had been right: kindness had been the thing to break through to him. When was the last time he had been openly loved?

Certainly not by his father, if her knowledge was anything to go by.

The darkness left his face as he stared at her, and he gave a wry little amused smile. "I held you against a rock as I took you, and you still do not look at me with fear."

"That would suggest there was something to be afraid of," she said with a smile. "Come now, shall we brave the sea together?"

She held out her hand and he took it.

Together, laughing at the cold shock of the surf, they ran into the sea.