A Belated Bride by Karen Hawkins Read Free Book Online Page B

scraped it across the edge of his teeth and found that he couldn’t feel his teeth, either.
    Meanwhile, Arabella leveled a cool glance at him that faltered when she caught him with his tongue half out. The situation struck Lucien as quite comical and as soon as he could get his tongue back into his mouth, he grinned, delighted to find that his lips still worked.
    Her brows lowered. “What is wrong with you?” Though his tongue seemed unable to work, he man-
    aged to say, “I am ravenoush, and gruel ish not enough food for a man like me.” He grinned, glad that he had only slurred one or two words.
    While his tongue was numb, every other sense was amplified. The smooth linen of the sheet abraded his skin, the low flames from the fireplace heated one side of his leg with a gentle insistence, and the faint prick of a feather through the pillow beneath his cheek all served to push his senses to a new height.
    But more discomfiting was the undisciplined nature of his mind, which was imagining Arabella walking toward him, her arms wide, her clothes . . . missing.
    As if she could read his thoughts, she crossed her arms over her ample charms and glared. “If His Grace is well enough to imbibe spirits, then he is well enough to stay at an inn.”
    Jane took a seat by the tray and removed the remaining covers from the dishes. “He will be leaving soon enough.”
    Emma took the seat opposite her sister. “Oh, yes. With a little rest and some good food, he will gone within a week.”
    Arabella choked. “A week?”
    “Oh, yes. We looked him over from head to toe and he is very, very healthy. Why, a horse isn’t as well hun—”
    “Emma!” Jane’s red cheeks matched the rose embroi- dered on the pillow beside her. “I am sure Arabella does not wish to hear any more about the duke. She has made her feelings on the subject quite plain. We can only assure her that, as soon as he is well, he will be up and on his way.”
    Lucien couldn’t think of a single reason to leave his won- drous haven. It seemed the perfect place to be, comfortably tucked into bed and protected by the loving ministrations of his two champions. The smell of cinnamon lingered, as did the sweet taste of mulled wine. The sun shone brightly through the window while delectable, winsome, beautiful Arabella stood only a few arms’ lengths away.
    The only way his life could get better would be if Ara- bella were in his bed and not beside it.
    He worked free a hand so he could wave it in the air. “Bella, my love, I must salute your aunts for their kind- ness. They are the loveliest of ladies.” For emphasis, he blew a kiss into the air and imagined he could see it float- ing off to land on each pale, wrinkled cheek.
    They tittered like schoolgirls and Lucien grinned in response.
    Arabella’s brows rose. “If he’s not drunk, then what’s wrong with him?”
    “Nothing is wrong with him; Jane and I just gave the poor man a little something to ease his pain.”
    Arabella covered her eyes with her hands. “Not your tonic!”
    “We only gave him a teaspoon or so,” Jane said stiffly. “Not enough to cause any harm.”
    “What’s wrong with the tonic?” Lucien asked, sud- denly alert.
    Jane plucked uneasily at the lace on her sleeve. “Noth- ing, Your Grace.”
    Arabella snorted. “Tell him about the tonic.” “Really, I don’t think he needs to know—” “Tell him.”
    “Oh, very well,” Jane said in a testy voice. “The tonic is actually made for . . .” She stopped and cast a longing glance at the door.
    “For what, damn it?” Lucien asked, his alarm rising by the minute. Good God, what were they afraid to tell him? “It is used for mating,” she blurted out, then bit her lip. “If we feed it to the sheep before they mate, they tend
    to . . . ah, relax.”
    Emma nodded, wiping crumbs from her chin. “We have the most fertile sheep in all of Yorkshire. Why, just last year alone we had three times the lambs as Sir Loughton, with only