Baron of Blasphemy (Lords of Scandal 12)

“I wasn’t sneaking. You just weren’t listening. You’re not riding with Lady Blasphemy?”

“Don’t call her that,” he said through clenched teeth.

Vanity raised a brow. “Married life agrees with you.”

“Fuck off,” he grouched, turning back toward the driver’s seat. Vanity had clearly noticed his foul mood.

“You know.” Vanity followed. “I haven’t actually heard you curse in days. Strange. Usually your language is a great deal more colorful.”

Chad ran a hand through his hair, wanting to tell his friend to leave him alone. He didn’t wish to share that he hadn’t touched his wife. That wasn’t true, actually. He’d touched her. Held her sleeping body close all night. She’d instantly fallen asleep in his arms, but he’d lain awake marveling at the soft press of her and the way her sweet-scented hair tickled his nose.

He never slept with women after they’d been intimate, and he understood why. Spending the night with Abigail had been so…personal.

And then this morning…

Her hair had been so thick and lush, her skin like pearl in the morning sun. It had taken everything in him not to strip her down and toss her onto the bed.

But.

He scrubbed his scalp. But she’d not been given any choices or any romance. He needed to court her now. Slowly build physical intimacy with a languid seduction that gave her choices.

It was a good plan. He hated it.

“You can’t sit on the driver’s seat,” Vanity called behind him. “There’s only room for the driver and myself.”

He spun back, his lips thinning over his teeth. “It’s my carriage.”

Vanity crossed his arms. “You want me to ride inside? With your wife?”

Chad stopped for a second, realizing just how much of the situation Vanity understood. He could see Chad’s jealousy, his frustration. “I hate you.”

“Not true.” Vanity winked. Then he dropped his voice. “Now the next

town we stop in, get your wife a trinket.”

A trinket?

Of course he should get her a gift. Something larger than a trinket.

And he should ride with her too. Vanity was right, again.

But she was so tempting, and he wanted to do the right thing by her. He rubbed the back of his neck. It was going to be a long day.

He’d have to spend it staring at the woman he wanted more with each passing second. She was the one woman he should touch, his wife, and the very one he’d promised himself he wouldn’t.

Chapter Eleven

Abigail sat on the large bed, not sure quite what to do with herself.

It was late, they’d arrived after dark. She’d met the sparse staff, they’d all shared a simple meal, and now she’d come up to bed.

Unlike the inn, she had her own room. The hangings were old, and a bit worn, but still of good quality. And the place was clean.

Her own home had suffered when both her parents were gone so she didn’t mind. She fidgeted as she watched the connecting door. Tonight would finally be her wedding night. She gave a small shake of her head. Last night had been her wedding night but tonight…

She’d stripped off her clothes and undone her hair as she sat and waited. The fire was roaring but her skin still prickled. She debated climbing under the covers as she nibbled her lip. How long would she have to wait? Shifting again, a knock sounded at the connecting door.

“Come in,” she called and stood, her hands clasping in front of her.