"And this"- the duke stroked the mound beneath her thumb- "do you know what this is called?" Bridget cleared her throat, but her voice emerged a bit rusty nonetheless. "I could not say, Your Grace." "The Mount of Venus." He arched his eyebrows at her. Devastatingly beautiful. Lethally charming. "My Greek girl told me that this foretells how passionate a woman may be. You, Mrs. Crumb, must have untold depths of sensual need within you." She narrowed her eyes at him. He bent and bit the base of her thumb. She gasped and snatched her hand away. The duke laughed and sat back, smoothing his bottom lip with his beringed thumb slowly."