The Duke of Trahorn consented to marrying the widowed Lady Elgar as a last resort. Because of his physical limitations, he now prefers companionship to sexual need.
Meeting Serena stirs emotions and tangible reactions long dead. Can he trust her realization of a plot to see his demise?
"Talk to me, Serena, I'm your husband. And it seems we've had a strange enough courtship; let us start our marriage with the truth, at least behind closed doors."
"I agree. I make a terrible liar. I get caught up in them and stammer and blush..."
"I'd prefer honesty, at least in private."
"Then can we do it again? I'd like to touch you...Unless that's not proper?"
Relief flooded through him. Never did he think he'd have a relationship that would transcend to this level, especially knowing the girl less than a day. "You will be sore in the morning, Serena." His words were a warning but she laughed at them.
"Then a bit more won't hurt, unless you're not up to it?" Her shy words were meant to provoke him, but he accepted the innocence behind them. Later he would know she had understood the double meaning, but for tonight, her innocence overwhelmed him.
"Serena, whatever happens in our bed chamber is between us, always. I don't tell tales or boast to my friends, do you understand? Here, this is our private haven. I'll never laugh at you, and I expect you to be honest if you don't like something."
"Alright, my lord. Thank you. Does that mean I can touch you?" He dropped his weight onto his back, lying spread for her eyes and hands.
"Oh, Zane, I never knew..." she said, her voice erotically low and inviting. Slim fingers danced along his chest and he didn't find it surprising when her mouth covered his flat nipple, his cock hardening against her palm. "Anything?" she whispered.
"Within reason, Serena. We'll learn our limits together."