He didn’t make her wait for him tonight, even though he knew his eagerness to be in her company gave her power over him. He’d find a way to offset it, to ensure he didn’t become subservient to her desires, even as his for her were proving dangerous and reckless. While he flirted with the ladies who visited here, he never seduced them.

Her he wanted to seduce thoroughly and slowly, tormenting them both. For the life of him, he couldn’t discern this need that seemed to override all common sense. Perhaps it was because she’d stated so bloody succinctly that she wanted to be bedded, and he feared once she was, she’d traipse out of his life as easily as she’d traipsed into it. He already knew that for him, one fuck wasn’t going to be enough. No, he wanted a multitude of them, so many that they’d lose count, so many they’d still be going at it when they were wrinkled and silver-haired.

God help him. Not that many. He wasn’t going to spend the remainder of his life shackled to her—or even an abundant number of years. He merely wanted more than one go with her, the exact number or amount of time to be determined at a later date.

As he neared, he could see no bump on the ring finger of her left hand. She’d not worn the symbol that proclaimed she belonged to another. Good. He was going to take a great deal of pleasure in peeling those gloves off her.

She didn’t smile, didn’t seem glad of his approach. Rather she looked like a deer that sensed the hunter’s arrow aimed at it and believed it would remain notched as long as no movement disturbed the air. Yet still, she stood her ground, meeting and holding his gaze with a bit of defiance reflected in her eyes. Ah, yes, his duchess was accustomed to bending others to her wishes. He had the odd sensation that, like a tree caught in a windstorm, he was bending as well—only he wouldn’t realize the exact extent of his giving way until he was felled. Foolish thought there, as he was always aware of how much he was yielding and how much farther he would. It was the reason, until recently, he’d given his sire a large share of his earnings to save his brother from transportation to Australia for a crime he hadn’t committed. He’d been willing to give much more than the earl had demanded for his favor, but then, when it came to his family, Aiden would give damn near anything required of him. Not that he went around boasting of that little flaw in himself.

When he reached her, he took her hand, pressed a kiss to it, never removing his gaze from hers. “Were your dreams as naughty as mine?”