Page 52 of A Scandal for the Beastly Earl

"Your room or mine?" he asked against her lips.

"Yours is closer."

"You said that last night too."

"It was true then, and it's true now."

"My practical wife."

"Someone has to be practical in this marriage."

"And someone has to be impractical. I suppose that's you as well."

"I suppose it is."

They barely made it to his chambers, stopping to kiss in alcoves, against walls, anywhere the need overwhelmed them. By the time they reached his door, Arabella's hair was thoroughly disheveled and Lucien's cravat was undone.

"The servants," she gasped as he pressed her against his door.

"Will learn to knock."

"Lucien..."

But then they were inside, the door locked, and conversation became unnecessary.

This time was different from the storm-driven passion of the night before. This was deliberate, chosen, a conscious decision to let their marriage become real. They took their time, learning each other's responses, mapping skin with hands and mouths, building something that felt like foundation.

"I didn't plan this," Lucien said afterward, holding her close. "Any of it. You were supposed to live in the east wing and I in the west, and we'd pass each other occasionally in the halls."

"A terrible plan."

"The worst I've ever made."

"I'm glad it failed."

"So am I." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "Though I have no idea what we do now."

"Now we sleep. Tomorrow we'll face whatever comes."

"Including Cassandra's ball?"

"Especially that."

"You're determined to torture me with society."

"I'm determined to show you that hiding isn't the answer."

"I wasn't hiding," he protested.

"You were absolutely hiding."

"Fine. I was hiding. But I had good reasons."

"And now?"

"Now I have better reasons not to." His arms tightened around her. "You're a good reason, Arabella."

"Just good?"