The tension spiraled higher. She was frantic with need. “Now, Hart, now!”

He pushed her legs apart, and she waited for him to enter her, but instead she felt his hot breath, there. He parted her with his fingers and—oh, God!—he was licking and nibbling and sucking and . . .

She couldn’t . . . she couldn’t . . . She was going to . . .

She gripped his hair and screamed. And shattered around him in an explosion of ecstasy . . .

She might have slept for a while, she wasn’t sure, though someone had covered her up. But when she finally gathered her scattered senses enough to think, only two thoughts came to mind. The first was that it was no wonder that Lily and Rose often arrived late for their morning ride. She stretched luxuriously. If this was married life, she liked it very much.

The second thought came a few moments later: he hadn’t entered her at all.

She sat up. He was lying on his side, his head propped on his elbow, contemplating her. “Did you like that?”

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “Yes, but—”

“But? After all that, there is a but?” he said, pretending indignation.

She laughed. “You know there isn’t. But you didn’t . . . um.” She blushed.

“I didn’t ‘um’ because I ‘ummed’ several times last night, whereas you hadn’t ‘ummed’ at all. It will get better with practice, and we will both ‘umm’ together, but in the meantime, you needed to find out what ‘umming’ was all about.” He leaned forward and kissed her nose and got out of bed. “Now, I’m off to bathe and shave, and you, my duchess, will have a bath. I’ve ordered hot water to be brought up in twenty minutes.”

George lay back against the pillows. Then her eyes flew open. “The servants are back?”

“Of course. We need bathing and shaving water and breakfast, don’t we? And your luggage and maidservant will have arrived. I told her not to come until this morning.”

George looked at him in dismay. “But if the servants were here this morning”—she pressed her hands against cheeks grown suddenly hot—“they will have heard.” She distinctly remembered someone screaming, and it wasn’t the duke. Her face was hot with embarrassment.

His expression was half smug, half amused. “Then they’d better get used to it.” He picked up his robe and, naked, walked from the room.

*   *   *

At breakfast the butler brought in the morning mail. The duke glanced through it quickly, sorting it into piles, then frowned over one particular letter. “Blast. I was hoping we could set off on our honeymoon today.” He glanced at the letter again and then up at her. “I’m afraid Venice will have to wait.”

She didn’t mind that at all. The only time she’d ever been on a boat, she’d been horribly seasick. “Why, what’s the matter?”