Sitting at a cozy table by the fire, in a suite that the innkeeper had declared his “verra best,” Emma studied Alaric as he sipped his wine. He’d changed into a black brocade dressing robe, his throat bare, his midnight hair curling and damp from his bath. They’d both cleaned up after arriving at the inn an hour ago. A half hour before that, they’d pledged themselves to each other over an anvil in a ceremony as short as it had been sweet. Now Emma was officially Mrs. Alaric James Alexander McLeod. And also the new Duchess of Strathaven. Picking her hand up from the table, her new husband rubbed his thumb over her plain gold wedding band, clearly pleased with the sign of his possession. As he wore a wider masculine version on his hand, a symbol of her claim, she had no complaints. His eyes a beautiful smoky jade, he murmured, “Had enough to eat, pet?” “I’m stuffed to the gills,” she said truthfully. The remnants of their feast—roasted venison and Scotch pie, potted haugh and assorted local cheeses, raspberries topped with whipped cream—still lay on the table before them.
What do You think about The Duke Who Knew Too Much?
