When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

She swallowed when he took her foot into his arms. Something cold touched her skin, and she gasped but did not tug her foot from his grasp. A scent rose in the air; it was oddly pleasant, an aroma of lemon and peppermint. He rubbed from the tip of her toes, down the bottom of her feet, around her ankle, and up to her knees. The relief she felt in her leg was beyond wonderful. He attended to both feet for several moments before he stopped.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft, drowsy sigh, turning on her side.

Her eyes flew open when his length pressed closer from behind. But it was the shock of feeling him reach around her shoulder to deftly unbutton her nightgown that had her faltering into alarming stillness. Phoebe couldn’t breathe. She dared not breathe. Oh, but how her heart trembled as she welcomed his touch. She offered no protest; in truth, she was not capable of speech.

The silence in the darkness of the chamber felt thick and perilous.

Phoebe’s chest rose and fell erratically when he eased the nightgown from her shoulders. She even helped him when he encouraged her to rise slightly, so he could ease the material from her other shoulder. When she realized the action would bare her breasts to the night air, she gripped his hand, which still held a bit of her gown. Her action had both their hands resting against her bare skin, right above her cleavage. She hadn’t worn a chemisette to bed, not liking the friction it caused against her breasts that were increasingly tender and sensitive.

She bit down on her lower lip, gripping the front of the unbuttoned nightgown. “I…I…I am naked beneath the gown,” she said huskily.

Hugh offered no response—of course he could offer none, she thought inanely.

He shifted closer, and she closed her eyes as he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. The contact jolted her, and her entire body trembled for a second. Birds took flight in her stomach, and with a sigh, she leaned back against him. She bit her lips even harder when he turned his head and brushed another kiss right at that spot below her ear…then down to her neck. Her trembling fingers released his hand and her gown, which fell and was only stopped by the high rise of her belly.

The chilled air rushed over her skin, pebbling her nipples and raising fine bumps on her skin. Phoebe had never been so aware of another person in her life, and the dull ache in her heart almost felt unbearable as she waited with helpless fascination for him to act.

Her belly went hot with a frightful surge of hunger when he coasted his hands over her shoulders and down, dragging her nightgown with it. She gasped when something cold touched her skin, and that breathy sound transformed to a moan as his fingers started a deep massage into her lower back.

The pleasure of it was incredible, the ache which had been a torment these few nights easing immediately. Her maidservant had tried to assuage her pain and discomfort, but her fingers lacked the strength of Hugh’s. Several pillows supported her as she lay on her side, so scandalously bared as her husband spent several minutes kneading her back, and sometimes even up to her shoulder. All the tension leaked from her, and peace seeped over her entire body.

“Hugh, I am falling asleep,” she murmured drowsily, her lashes fluttering closed.

He paused, and Phoebe smiled when he pressed a kiss atop her shoulders as if to say, Sleep, then. Then he resumed his ministrations, just a bit more tenderly this time, but just as relaxing and sublime.

Something indefinable turned over inside of her. Phoebe hoped she was not still that silly girl who longed for sweet sentiments. The old dreams of the forever kind of love she’d always hungered for, the one that would allow her to live a life of joy, was forever from her reach. This man did not believe in fate or love. The simple fact was their marriage was only built on the use they had of each other to save their family. Nothing more.

Do not be silly, Phoebe! she told herself fiercely. Do not go wishing for more than he will ever be able to give. The possibility of feeling more for him, only to never have those sentiments returned, sent a painful jolt of apprehension through her.

That way only led to heartache, pain, and disappointed expectations. And I am smarter than that. Dear God, please let me be smarter than to fall hopelessly in love with Hugh Winthrop.

Chapter Eleven

Phoebe slowly came awake, the warm rays of the sun heating her cheeks. Her lashes fluttered open, and she froze. Oh! Somehow, she was in the very center of the large bed, her head pillowed on a chest, and a gentle but unbreakable clasp on her shoulder. Hugh breathed deeply and evenly behind her.

The urgent need to tend to her morning ablutions had her wiggling against him as she sought to turn around. She managed to extricate herself from his hold and was about to shift and face him when he rose and came above her. Phoebe fell back against the pillow and peered up at him. It was when his lashes lowered and his gaze swept over her in a quick but very thorough glance that she recalled the scandalous way her clothes were arranged. And they were no longer swathed in darkness. Mortification swamped her senses, along with a most aggravating curl of desire.

“You…” she started to say and then with a horrified groan slapped a hand over her mouth.

She reached between them and tugged at the sheets to place it over her mouth, effectively covering her exposed breasts. His eyes widened, and she blushed. Surely married couples in the ton or anyone did not speak to each other before washing and cleaning their mouths!

Humor lit in his eyes, and he dipped his head.

“You must not kiss me!” she said, though the words sound muffled.

The dratted man ignored her alarm and kissed her firmly. Though the silken sheet was between their mouths, Phoebe felt the heated imprint of his lips, and her stomach flipped alarmingly. When he lifted his head, a wide smile curved his mouth, and he looked happy. The very notion of it had her staring at him with wide eyes. She lifted her fingers to his mouth, tracing the shape of his smile with her thumb.

Phoebe tugged the sheet from her mouth to her chin. “You have a beautiful smile, Hugh.”

He wrinkled his nose.

Phoebe glowered. “You started it! Now you’ll simply have to suffer my terrible breath!”

He grabbed her lingering fingers and pressed a kiss to them before leaning down and touching his lips to hers again.

Her belly rippled, and he broke their kiss to peer down. The baby moved

, and Hugh jerked a bit. He glanced up briefly, a look of wonder on his face, and she did not protest when he pressed his palm against her stomach to feel the powerful kicks of the baby. They stayed like that for a bit, and she held on to the urge to demand the chamber pot so that he could have this moment.