Page 37 of A Bride for the Cruel Duke

The door swung open and in walked the duke, her husband. He had dressed down from the suit he was wearing for their wedding, now in little more than a pair of breeches and a nightshirt. It hung loosely from his thick shoulders, an opening at the front revealing the matting of hair that covered him. Her eyes drifted to it unconsciously and she widened them when she realized what she was doing, looking away.

Then, she realized what she was wearing... not much at all. Feeling self-conscious and exposed, she folded her arms over her chest as if to cover herself.

“Ye—yes?” she stammered. “What is it?”

The duke remained by the doorway as he studied her. The light from the fire was soft, barely reaching where he stood; the effect was to cast him mostly in dark shadow, which made him seem somehow larger and more intimidating. The crackle of the fire. The pop of the wood. Her heart thudding in her chest. The silence grew...

“I wished to make sure that you have everything,” the duke said simply. “Do you?”

“I do,” she said. “Thank you.”

“If you require anything at all, the staff will be sure to acquiesce.”

“I will remember that.”

“Good.” He continued to look at her, his dark eyes noticeably falling to her bust. The look in his eyes as he took them in made her skin prickle, and once again she remembered his lips on her own... his hands around her waist... his teeth biting into?—

“Is that all?” she said quickly, forcing herself to focus.

The duke tilted his head, still looking at her. Then, he crossed the room, walking right past her, where he sat down on the couch by the fire. She turned to follow him, caught between panic at what he was doing and that pesky sense of excitement that seemed to follow her whenever she and the duke were alone.

“Come here, please,” he said simply.

“Ex—excuse me?” she stammered.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I would like to speak with you.”

She obeyed without even realizing what she was doing. Her feet moved as if of their own volition until she was standing by the couch.

“Sit,” he then commanded of her.

Her brow furrowed and it took all her self-control not to do as he said. “Sit? I do not... I do not understand.”

“You may continue to stand,” he said. “But I find it awkward. Please…” He gestured to the couch again.

She pushed her lips together, not at all certain of what he was getting at. Despite the nervousness she was feeling, anger was still very much a present emotion. He had the inane ability to bring it out in her, such that she was forced to wonder if he liked doing so.

Caroline sat awkwardly on the arm of the chair, being careful not to get too close, careful to be in a position where she could leap to her feet if need be.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked her.

“I am.”

“Liar.”

“I just want to know what you are doing? I did not expect to see you in my room tonight.” She spoke forward, refusing to look at him. But she could feel him watching her, his eyes lingering on her bosom as they had been since he walked through the door. “Or ever,” she finished.

“I thought that it might be obvious.”

Her eyes widened when she saw the look in his eyes.No… surely, he does not mean… but he promised. “I… I thought that… you said—whoa!” she yelped as his large hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her from the armrest, onto his lap.

“There,” he said. “Much better.”

Caroline sat frozen on the duke’s lap. Unsure what she should say. What she should do. And why it felt as comfortable as it did. His legs spread just enough for her to slip between them. His hands around her waist were strong but also protective. And his breath on the back of her neck... a shudder ran down her spine and right to her thighs.

“What... what are you doing?”

“This marriage does not have to be so hostile,” the duke began, his voice deep but a whisper. His breath still traced the skin on her neck but the grip around her waist tightened. “Even if you seem intent on making it so.”

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