A Duchess a Day (Awakened by a Kiss #1) - Charis Michaels Page 0,93

with his. “One thing I will not do, even if you are in prison for the next thirty years, is annul this marriage.”

“You don’t know what you say.” A whisper.

“I know exactly what I’m saying. And hear me now: we will consummate this union.” She grabbed his overcoat by the lapels. “Tonight.”

“Oh God.”

“Do it,” she demanded. “If you’re bound for prison—which I highly doubt—then we’ll enjoy this before you go.”

“Helena,” he said.

“Do you love me?”

“Helena.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes, I love you.”

“Then do it.” She kissed him, employing everything he’d ever taught her about kissing, plus eagerness and the earthy sensuality that he associated only with her. It was the most soul-searing kiss of his life.

He pulled away, panting. “Here? In the alley? Absolutely not.”

“Then find somewhere.” She kissed him again. “Declan, please.”

He tried to resist, God help him—he tried—but he hadn’t slept in nearly two nights. His emotions were raw. And most of all, he wanted her. He’d wanted her since she’d come to him in the stable.

He kissed her, forcing his mind to work. They had little more than an hour before he must deliver her to Lusk House. He refused to make love to her outside, on the streets of London in the cold November air.

His rented flat in Charing Cross had long since been given up.

He wouldn’t take her to a coaching inn.

He saw little help for it but taking her home, to Savile Row.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Declan led her by the hand through the intermittent traffic in Oxford Street and hired another hackney. Again they rode in silence, this time locked in a passionate embrace. When they reached his father’s shop, he threw a handful of coins at the driver and they half ran, half staggered up the walk.

She fell against the door, breathless and reaching for him. He made a growling noise, falling to her.

“Shhh,” she breathed, giggling.

“It’s alright,” he said against her mouth. “The family is next door. This is the shop. These buildings are five hundred years old and the walls are as thick as a fortress. No one will hear.” He kissed her. “I do hate it that your wedding night does not include a proper bedroom.”

“You stole me out of a perfectly good one,” she said, kissing him back.

He gathered her up. She had some vague notion of him retrieving a key from among flowerpots and unlocking the door. She stopped kissing him long enough to peer into the dim shop, but he looped an arm beneath her knees and swept her into his arms. He carried her inside and kicked the door shut with his boot.

Helena let out a little yelp, thrilled by every part of it: the makeshift wedding suite, his strength, even the terrible truths that he’d just shared. They faced so many obstacles, but they would do it together.

Declan set her down long enough to whip off his coat and peel hers away. Working quickly, he lit a candle, took her by the hand, and tiptoed from the showroom, through a workroom, and finally to a small room stacked with bolts of fabric. The grate had been laid with fresh wood for the morning, and he knelt to start a crackling fire. When the flames took hold, the small room was cast in jumping orange light. The colorful fabric glowed, and Helena pulled off her gloves to run her hands across the bolts.

Declan was far less reverent. With wild abandon, he began to unfurl the material. Bolt after bolt fluttered to the rug on the floor. Wool, silk, linen, cotton, silk again.

“This is truly pathetic,” he said, “but the best I can do. Have you changed your mind?”

Helena shook her head, speechless for once. The fabric and the fire, the small, private room—she wanted for nothing more.

“I want for nothing more than this.”

Declan shot her a smile that expanded her heart and huffed out a breath. He put his hands on his hips and stared down at the colorful nest of fabric.

Helena followed his gaze. “Now . . . ?” she asked, feeling suddenly bashful.

“Now, Mrs. Shaw,” he confirmed. “And please be aware, you will do nothing. For once, I am in charge.” He clicked the door shut and bolted the lock.

She laughed, a nervous, breathless sound. She watched him pull off his boots, thrilled by the sight of his determined profile and the athleticism of his body. She thought of him dragging Lusk that first night, inventorying her ridiculous wedding gifts, chasing her down the street in the