Reckless Need by Scarlett Scott

Author:Scarlett Scott
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: 0
Published: 2016-06-06T05:00:00+00:00

Heath had spent the night in his wife’s bed. It confounded him that he’d fallen asleep there with her rather than returning to his chamber as he ought to have done. Even as he flipped through the Times over eggs, kidneys and kippers the next morning, his reaction to Tia irked him. While he intended for them to get on well as husband and wife, and he certainly meant to take her as often as possible, he didn’t wish to become—damn it all—attached.

In the short time he’d spent courting her, he’d realized that he needed to rein in his recklessness where she was concerned. He had loved once, madly and desperately, and he had lost that love. He didn’t care to repeat his experience. Indeed, he’d gone to great efforts to close off that part of his life forever. The evidence was sealed up in a chamber in the east wing, for Christ’s sake.

And last night, he’d taken one look at Tia standing in her chamber in that frothy confection, her breasts and waist on display like his personal Venus, and he’d lost control. His plans for an unhurried seduction had been dashed the moment he’d felt her soft, nude curves beneath him.

He stabbed at his plate with extra vigor and attempted to focus on the news rather than allow his already hard cock to once again rule him. He needed to take care, or he’d be following Tia about like a lovesick swain and writing maudlin poetry to her hips. He’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. He’d gained a wife. Now he simply needed to regain his senses.

The door of the breakfast room swept open to reveal the very object of his frustrated musings. She was pretty as an angel in her violet morning gown, her curls piled high on her head. The smile she sent his way when their gazes met sent an arrow of heat directly to his groin.

Devil take it.

They exchanged formal greetings, more for the sake of the servants than themselves, and he pretended not to watch her from the corner of his eye whilst she fixed her plate and was seated. In truth, he couldn’t not stare at her. She was such a gorgeous creature, every bit the butterfly, vibrant and exotic and delicate all at once. If he had still painted, he would’ve captured her a hundred ways. With morning sun filtering over her while she slept, buttoned up in a formidable silk gown, beautiful and nervous on their wedding day, naked and flushed beneath him.

“Your Grace?”

Oh bloody hell. She was talking to him and he was mooning over her as if he were a lad seeing his first woman. “You may call me Heath, my dear,” he reminded her. He’d been the duke for several years already, but he still sometimes looked about for his grandfather whenever someone addressed him as “Your Grace”. And his profligate grandfather was not a man he ever wished to be.

“Heath, then.” Her lips curved in a shy smile.

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