A Scandal By Any Other Name

A warm, glowing feeling filled Delaney’s entire chest. She knew the Duke of Ford was a very wealthy man, but the sheer scale of his generosity was still overwhelming.

Delaney smiled. It was a bright, playful smile.

"Stop teasing me, Rowan," She said, her tone light and full of fond amusement. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "I have my own money now. A lot, actually."

Rowan watched her with deep, focused eyes. He listened quietly, allowing her to speak.

"I have my fair payment from your aunt for my time working as your matchmaker," Delaney explained proudly. She listed her newfound wealth on her fingers. "And I have the large inheritance from my father, which the Crown has finally restored to me. It is quite enough money for me to spend on my own dresses and my own needs."

Rowan did not smile back. The playful, charming light completely left his face. His expression became incredibly serious, firm, and deeply devoted.

"I was not teasing you, Delaney," Rowan said. His deep voice was smooth, but it carried the heavy, undeniable weight of absolute truth. "I am dead serious."

Delaney paused. She let her hands fall to her sides, surprised by the sudden, intense shift in his mood.

Rowan looked down into her eyes, making sure she understood every single word he was about to say.

"I make money for my family’s comfortability," Rowan stated firmly. He spoke with the quiet, powerful authority of a true Duke. "That is my duty, and it is my greatest privilege. And right now, Delaney, you are my absolute top priority."

He raised his hand and gently brushed a stray curl of dark hair behind her ear. His warm fingers lingered on her soft skin.

"Ines is spending her husband’s money now," Rowan explained, listing the women he cared for. "She is no longer my financial responsibility since the day she got married. Aunt Margery has her own vast fortune and her own estates. She does not need my coin."

Rowan lowered his hand. He stepped even closer. The warmth radiating from his large body chased away the slight chill of the large study.

"You are my responsibility now," Rowan declared softly, his eyes burning with intense, protective devotion. He quickly corrected himself, a very small, tender smile touching the corners of his lips. "Or, should I say, you will very soon be my responsibility, once we are properly married."

He reached out and gently held her upper arms. His grip was entirely gentle, but completely firm.

"So, please," Rowan instructed her, his voice dropping into a low, intimate rumble. "Do not be polite with my resources. Do not count coins when it comes to your own comfort. After all, I am making them for you."

Delaney stared up at him. Her heart fluttered wildly against her ribs. She had spent twenty long years being treated as a heavy, unwanted burden by Cole and Eunice Kingsley. She had been starved, ignored, and hidden away in a dark, cold attic. She had even fend for herself, managing every single coin she had earned.

Now, standing before her, was one of the most powerful, wealthy men in all of England, looking at her as if she were the most precious, important treasure in the entire world. He wanted to give her absolutely everything, simply because he loved her.

A sudden, deep surge of affection and bold confidence rushed through Delaney’s veins. She smirked. It was a slow, highly confident, and undeniably wicked little smirk.

"Is that so, Your Grace?" Delaney asked softly, her voice taking on a teasing, highly seductive edge.

Rowan nodded his head once, his eyes entirely serious. "It is."

Delaney did not break eye contact. She raised her hands slowly. She slid her arms up the solid, muscular wall of his chest. She wrapped her arms completely around his neck, lacing her fingers together at the back of his head.

By instinct, Rowan reacted immediately. His hands moved from her upper arms and slid directly down to her waist. He wrapped his strong arms firmly around her, pulling her soft body flush against his hard frame. He held her securely, exactly where she belonged.

Delaney rested her hands against the collar of his fine velvet smoking jacket. She looked around the large, quiet study, glancing playfully at the dozens of ribbon-tied boxes piled high on the furniture.

"Thank you so much for the gifts, Rowan," Delaney whispered softly, looking back up into his face. Her eyes were shining with genuine, deep gratitude. "I truly love them. They are beautiful."

She moved her fingers slightly. She began to gently play with the soft, blond hair resting at the very nape of his neck. She curled the short strands around her fingers, feeling the warm, smooth skin of his neck beneath her touch.

Rowan let out a very soft, quiet breath. His hands tightened just a fraction on her waist. He loved the gentle, soothing feeling of her fingers in his hair.

Then, Delaney stopped smiling. She pushed her lower lip out in a highly exaggerated, incredibly adorable pout. She looked up at him with wide, seemingly innocent eyes, looking entirely sorry.

"But," Delaney said softly, letting her voice sound very sad and completely disappointed. "I did not have anything prepared for you. You bought me an entire wardrobe of Italian silk, and I have absolutely no gift for you."

Rowan opened his mouth to speak. He wanted to tell her that she did not need to give him anything. He wanted to tell her that simply having her alive, safe, and smiling in his home was the greatest gift he could ever receive in his entire life.

But before Rowan could form a single word, Delaney tilted her head slightly to the side.

The innocent, sad look completely vanished from her beautiful face. It was instantly replaced by a look of burning desire.

Delaney looked directly into his eyes. She held his gaze for a long, silent second, letting him see exactly what she was thinking.

Then, very slowly, she lowered her gaze.

She looked deliberately down at his lips. She stared at his mouth, studying the shape of his lips with open, clear hunger. She let her gaze linger there, tracing the lines of his mouth with her eyes.

Slowly, carefully, she raised her gaze back up to meet his eyes again.

As she held his gaze, Delaney parted her lips just a little bit. She took a slow, deep, highly visible breath.

The change in the atmosphere of the study was instant and completely electric. The warm air suddenly felt incredibly thick. The playful, sweet conversation of the morning was entirely gone, replaced by a massive, crashing wave of raw, physical tension.

Rowan froze completely.

He had fully intended to wait until their wedding night to touch her properly. He had promised himself he would be careful, gentle, and perfectly respectful while she healed from her terrible ordeal.

But looking down at her parted lips, feeling the soft curves of her body pressed so tightly against him, his control began to violently crack.