Lynne Silver - Behind The Duke's Door

Her body protested the sudden cold at his absence. “What is going on?” she asked the cherubs smiling down at her from their painted perch on the bedroom ceiling mural. Their arrows pointed toward Harry’s room, so she followed the advice. She slid off the bed, straightening her nightgown back to virginal modesty, and crept toward Harry’s suite. One finger, then her whole hand pushed open the connecting door.

“Harry?” she called, peeking her head in to look for her absent husband. “Is everything all rig …”

Harry stood facing her. Arthur perched on his knees in front of him, his mouth on Harry’s— Oh, my . Elizabeth froze, her eyes wider than guineas. She should move, leave them to their privacy. But somehow her feet took one step, then another, until her body stood fully in the duke’s bedchamber. Her voice trailed off as shock and another, unfamiliar emotion careened into her like a phaeton running a race. Desire?

Harry’s eyes opened to lock on her, and he immediately pushed Arthur away. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “It was the only way I could stay ha—”

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