Please, she’d whispered. Please. The word had shocked him. He’d pulled away at once, uncertain whether she’d uttered it in pleasure or pain. Her breathless voice almost suggested the former—but that was too absurd to contemplate. First, she was a virgin. Second, she was a vicar’s daughter. Third, she was a virgin vicar’s daughter. And fourth, he was the scarred, ill-tempered—if fantastically wealthy—wretch who’d strong-armed her into a marriage of convenience with no courtship whatsoever. He must have hurt her, or scared her, or—most lowering to contemplate—repulsed her. At best, he’d merely
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