Page 24 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Louisa could not explain why she had turned her head at the last moment, forcing him to kiss her lips. It might be the part of her that had always been lonely, the part of her that wanted toknow what a kiss—her husband’s kiss—felt like, and she was not disappointed.

His kiss was just like his personality—intense and overwhelming. In a few seconds, she had forgotten her surroundings and the fact that their family and friends were seated in the pews behind them.

When he had released her, she had been dazed, holding on to him for the few moments it took her to remember her own name, who she was, and the identities of the people who occupied the church.

Now that she thought about it, perhaps it was the wanton way she had responded to his kiss that had disgusted him. He had married her because he thought she was a proper lady of the ton, and she was quite sure that no true lady of the ton would be caught sharing such a passionate kiss with her husband in a church of all places!

But it was his fault!

It was his fault for eliciting such a reaction from her. She had never wanted a big wedding, so there was no obligation for her to play a part in one.

Ironically, even though she felt hurt by his reaction after their kiss, she could not regret kissing him. It was a memory that would keep her warm in the years to come when Percival left her to pursue his own life.

It was the life she had signed up for, so she did not understand the cold feeling of disappointment that settled in the pit of her stomach.

The feel of the carriage slowing down pulled her out of her reverie, and with a sigh, she moved the curtains aside to see that they had arrived at Colborne House.

She stared for a long time at the building that was to be her new home for the unforeseen future.

The manor might be dilapidated at the moment, but she imagined it was once a sight to behold in its glory days. Its majestic pillars still stood proudly, holding the slowly collapsing building up. The roof had caved in in some places, and some of the high windows were broken where the louvers should have been.

The overgrown trees that once surrounded the building had been cut down, and someone had taken time to clean up the grounds around the manor so it was a little bit more inviting than the last time she had come here.

That fact at least gave her hope that the household might be welcoming to their new Duchess and more likely to work with her on restoring the manor to its former glory.

She guessed she would need to work a lot to take her mind off the loneliness that was sure to come with her marriage. Rebuilding the manor seemed as good a cause as any to channel her energy.

Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that a tiny part of her heart wondered if it could make the Duke despise her less—maybe even fall in love with her.

The events of that afternoon were enough to tell her that it was a pipe dream, unlikely to become reality, but it was difficult to convince her romantic heart to accept the fact.

“It seems we have arrived, wife,” he said blandly when their eyes met.

“Indeed, Your Grace,” she replied just as coldly.

If he noted the chilly tone of her voice, he did not comment on it. He stepped out of the carriage and extended a hand to help her down. His fingers lingered on her gloved ones for a fraction of a moment, sending familiar heat down her spine.

His hands were bare—his one protest against the norms. His fingers were broader than hers, his palms callused, the skin peppered with hair.

The loud sound of the driver clearing his throat snapped Louisa back to reality, only to realize that she had spent the better part of a minute staring at her husband’s hands like a love-struck fool. She felt her cheeks bloom with colour as she averted her gaze.

She marched towards the entrance of the manor, determined to put some distance between her and her annoyingly attractive husband.

Who on earth gets transfixed by and obsessed with a man’s hands? The answer, it seemed, was that she was the only one guilty of that novel brand of madness.

They got married only a few hours ago and she was already making a fool of herself. She hoped it was not a prediction of what their future would look like.

When she stopped in front of the giant iron doors, she found them quite jammed. Reluctant to request help from her husband, she put all her weight against them and pushed. Thus she was unprepared when it opened suddenly, and she realized with panic that she was falling forward.

She braced herself for the inevitable impact with the floor… before she felt masculine hands around her waist pulling her back till her back was pressed against a deliciously firm chest.

“Careful, Duchess,” Percy whispered in her ear, sending goose bumps down the side of her neck. “We do not want you to acquire an injury so early on in our marriage.”

Louisa immediately pulled herself out of his embrace, swallowing repeatedly and running her suddenly damp hands over the skirt of her dress as she tried to collect herself.

It was concerning how easily this man could destroy her carefully conserved composure. Just one touch or the sound of his voice made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Who is he, and what exactly has he done to me?

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