Page 8 of A Bride for the Cruel Duke

He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “I swear that your purpose on this earth is to frustrate me.”

“But... but... but...” she stammered. “It is not right. You and me... alone... the same room...”

Another smirk struck his lips, and he strode toward her. She stood frozen, her neck craning up to look at his hulking mass as he towered over her. He was just so big, taking up the entire breadth of the hallway, a monster from her nightmares that set her knees to shaking.

“You have nothing to fear from me,” he growled deeply as he leaned in close. So close that she felt the warmth of his breath on her ear; it had her skin breaking out in goose bumps, shuddering in ways that suggested fear, but she wasn’t quite sure that was the cause. “That is unless, you give me good reason.”

“G—good reason?”

“Stay that tongue. Behave yourself. And a good night’s sleep will be your reward.”

Again, that urge to argue, one which the duke alone seemed to inspire in her. “And if I don’t?”

He chuckled deeply. “Let us hope it does not come to that.” And with that, he turned and stalked back down the hallway, into the room.

Caroline stood frozen. Her eyes wide. Her mouth was dry. Her entire body shook. She peered into the darkness of the room, unable to see the duke but knowing he was there, like a monster in the shadows, waiting for her to step into his lair.

She was not afraid of His Grace like one might think because, despite him being a truly terrifying specimen, he had saved her life and had since done nothing to suggest that he meant her any harm. Rather, the fear which trickled through Caroline’s body was fear felt at her own rebellious thoughts and dark desires, those which she was at pains to ignore but could simply not stop picturing and considering and wondering if His Grace was thinking the same…

These dark thoughts were ones that she had spent a lifetime fighting against, knowing that they were wrong, wishing she did not have them, yet enraptured at the same time by the way they made her feel. Rare as they were, today had seen them pummel her with relentless ferocity because every time she looked at His Grace…No! Please, Caroline. Keep your wicked mind away from such wicked thoughts as those!

She would try. She had to! Yet she peered into the dark depths of the room, inside of which the duke waited for her, and she was forced to consider the very real fact that she wasn’t nearly as strong willed as she had spent her entire life convincing herself that she was.Not even close.

ChapterThree

Caroline edged cautiously into the room and then, with just as much caution, she closed the door behind her.

“I see you made your choice,” the duke said.

“Did I have one?”

He was standing by the end of the bed, looking at her in a way that confirmed that perhaps this was not the best idea. It wasn’t threatening, and she did not think that he meant her any harm. It was the power in his stance that unsettled her, the dominance in the stare that he fixed her with.

He was so controlled, so calm and commanding, and not at all worried about the situation or concerned with how inappropriate it was. Did that mean he thought nothing of her? Or that it would not bother him if something untoward was to happen?

Her heart began to race and her limbs began to tingle... This, of course, brought with it shame—a feeling that was becoming far too common today for her liking.

“We always have a choice,” he said with a shrug. “Perhaps not the ones we wish for, but they are our choices to make, nonetheless.”

“Like the one that you made,” she ventured bravely, still hovering by the doorway. “You did not have to ask for a single room.”

“True enough.” He turned his back on her and then, she realized, began to unbutton his shirt. “I felt it was the right choice to make, considering the circumstance.”

“And what circumstance is that?”

He turned around, his shirt open. Despite Caroline’s best efforts, her eyes strayed to his chest. It was covered in a thick layer of dark hair, a bulging chest hidden beneath. She felt her mouth open, and her pulse quicken.

“I expect to leave early tomorrow morning,” he said, ignoring her question. “At sunrise, assuming Mr. Gulliver has fixed the carriage wheel. Meaning, I expect an early night’s sleep.”

“I...” Still, her eyes lingered on his burly chest.

He smirked. “That won’t be a problem, will it?”

She tore her eyes free and glared at him. “I expect to retire immediately. I trustthatwon’t be a problem?”

He said nothing at first, his dark eyes roaming over her body in a way that made her skin flush. Another beat passed between them, and he nodded once. “Wait here.”

“What? Why?”

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