This Duchess of Mine by Eloisa James Read Free Book Online Page A

voice an edge.
    â€œI must take a bath!” she said, laughing. He had her backed against the door, hunkering over her like a great beast.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œIndeed, Elijah, I must insist. I have been thrown into a boat and splashed with river water. I am…” She paused and gestured with mock horror. “…not myself.” Vulnerability glimmered deep in those exquisite eyes of hers.
    â€œYou’d be beautiful to me if you were bathed inmud,” he said. “Let’s call for the bath and I’ll act as your maid.”
    Even in the dark, with no light other than that filtering through the windows, he could see a stain of color in her cheeks. “I bathe alone, always.”
    He bent closer. “After tonight I shall know every nook and cranny of your body, Jemma.” His voice roughened. “Bathing will just hasten the process.”
    â€œYou have a great deal of confidence in yourself,” she said, looking a bit uncertain, not like the arrogant duchess who had ruled Paris with her wit and beauty.
    He smiled. “You see? You’re getting to know me better already. There’s no need for a courtship between us.”
    But his wife was no malleable young miss. She pulled back. “I will welcome you in my bedchamber in one hour, Duke.”
    He couldn’t protest again. They weren’t children. His Jemma might have taken a lover or two in Paris during the years they were apart, but clearly she had granted the poor Frenchmen no real intimacies.
    So he kissed her again. With all the knowledge he had that she was the only woman for him, that she’d been so for years.
    With the knowledge that time was not his friend, and that if she took too long to woo him, he wouldn’t be there for their last kiss.

Chapter Four
    J emma found it hard to formulate sentences, though luckily her maids were so excited about the riots that they didn’t notice in the midst of their chatter.
    One moment she was starkly terrified, and the next moment her whole body flushed with heat. It felt as if she faced a slide into some sort of delicious madness, a kind of wild state in which one had no concern for what others thought. She had an idea that Elijah was already there. Thinking of Fowle’s startled face when Elijah slammed the door almost made her laugh aloud.
    She was still in her bath when she heard a discreet knock. Brigitte bustled back into the room a moment later, her eyes shining. “We should finish your bath, Your Grace. The duke is requesting that you join him for a light supper in his bedchamber. The meal is already served and he has dismissed his valet for the night.”
    Brigitte’s voice betrayed her excitement. For asecond all three maids froze, and then rushed into chatter about inconsequentials. Jemma rose and allowed herself to be toweled off. How strange it was that four women would all understand exactly what was to happen tonight and still say nothing of it.
    The maids knew, of course, that she and Elijah had not slept together for years. They likely knew that she had returned from Paris due to the duchy’s need for an heir; they almost certainly knew that she had a foolish infatuation for her husband.
    Brigitte drew a nightgown from the wardrobe and held it up for approval. She had chosen Jemma’s most extravagant, most French, most utterly delicious garment. It was made of a rosy silk so thin as to be translucent. The neck fell very low, and was embroidered with a thick tangle of red roses that called attention to her breasts.
    She nodded, and Brigitte slipped the gown over her head. It followed the curves of her body and then flounced into a tiny train at her feet.
    â€œI’ll put roses in your hair,” Mariette said, wielding a hairbrush like a sword.
    â€œThat seems rather elaborate,” Jemma said.
    â€œJust a rose or two.” The maid smiled with a Frenchwoman’s suggestive charm. “Nothing more than a