𝙄𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙪𝙣𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬𝙡𝙚𝙙𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙙𝙪𝙠𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙤 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙪𝙣𝙚 𝙢𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙬𝙞𝙛𝙚.
Miss Kalina Little is not the debutante that Nathanial, Duke of Hereford, needs for his wife.
What he needs is someone with a dowry hefty enough to pay off the debts left to him by his late father and skilled enough to help repair his family’s reputation and guide his sisters through the ton. As the head of his household, it’s his duty to provide that stability for his family, and the sisters who rely on him.
The last thing he needs is to have his head turned by a woman whose own family is mired in scandal and who, after spending most of her life in India, has no clue how to navigate the tricky social politics of high society.
But no matter how he tries to avoid the temptation that is the beautiful Kalina, he can’t seem to put her out of his mind.
And when scandal erupts at a house party, there’s only one honorable way forward for Nathaniel… even if it means making the wrong woman his bride.
It was her wedding night, and she was still a virgin. A virgin who could not fall asleep.
Kalina turned over, trying to get more comfortable in the bed. The mattress was comfortable enough, despite its age. The sheets were soft, worn from use. But she could not get comfortable.
For a moment, she’d thought Nathanial would kiss her, and all would be well… but he’d practically run from her. Shut himself away inside his own room. So close but so far away.
She’d thought about knocking on the door between their rooms, but decided against it. It had already been embarrassing enough ringing for Margaret to help her get ready for bed. Though her maid had been cheerful getting her ready for bed, as if she expected that Hereford would be in after she left.
But he had not come. Eventually, Kalina had blown out her candles and lay down.
The last thing she wanted to do was force him to spend time with her when it was clear he did not. Hopefully, tomorrow…
Part of her desire was pure curiosity, but another part was that he made her feel things. She wanted to explore that. And if he had come into the room with her, she might have felt like they’d traveled along the road toward forgiveness. Her mother had said that being in the bedroom together was the most intimate thing a couple could do.
She’d hoped…
But no.
Perhaps there was no way to make up for the way her father had tricked him.
Turning onto her side, Kalina buried her face in the pillow, letting the soft cushion soak up her tears.
Closing her eyes, she took long, deep breaths. In. And out. Felt her heart slow to a calmer pace. The tension in her body began to leak out of her. Relaxing her. She focused her mind on her new sisters. Julianna and Emma were both more reserved with her, but Fiona had been nothing but warm and welcoming. A soothing balm to her battered emotions.
She could make a place for herself here.
Tomorrow, she would be happy to take them shopping. Visit the village. And explore her new home. Surely, Fiona, at least, would be willing to show her around the many rooms. Miss Milford would likely help, too. Margaret had said the older woman was very welcoming and happy that the new duchess had brought her own lady’s maid.
Peace slowly settled over her, and she was just beginning to drift off when she heard a noise. At first, she dismissed it. Houses creaked, after all. Or perhaps she’d already fallen asleep and was dreaming. She was right on the cusp.
But then she heard the sound of fabric shushing against itself, coming closer to her.
Her heart began to race again, and she turned over.
A large, solid shape was approaching her bed, the outline of shoulders and head shadowed but visible as her eyes peered through the darkness.
“Your Grace?” she whispered, because she did not feel comfortable calling him by his first name. Not after everything.
And he had never given her permission to.
“Hush,” he murmured, though the one word was enough that she recognized his voice. His shoulders moved, and some of the silhouette slid away, revealing a leaner shadow.
He must have been wearing a dressing gown, she realized, as he began to crawl onto the bed. She felt the dip in the bed, felt trepidation and hope rise inside her. As much as she wanted to say something, she could not think of what… and besides, he’d told her to hush.
There was something freeing about the silence. If she could not say anything, then she could not say anything wrong. If they did not speak, then they could not accuse or insult, either.
Hereford tugged the sheets down away from her. Uncertain of what to do, Kalina found herself utterly breathless.
Golden Angel is a USA Today best-selling author and self-described bibliophile with a "kinky" bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn't get them out, she's pretty sure she'd go just a little crazy.
She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.
When she's not writing, she can often be found on the couch reading, in front of her sewing machine making a new cosplay, hanging out with her friends, or wandering the Maryland Renaissance Fair.
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