Page 15 of A Virgin for the Duke of Scars
Wait, what?
“You must never seek me when I’m in my tower,” he continued. “And you are never to set foot there.”
This… was all there was to it? Nothing about being indoors before sunset or never being late for prayers at the crack of dawn?
But her dear husband was not done yet.
“You must give me an heir, of course, and we’ll do what we must in the dark—without kissing.” His tone was as unyielding as the stone she imagined he must have etched his words into. “Once you conceive, we will not need to see each other again.”
She nodded numbly. “Is that all?”
He regarded her with a raised eyebrow. “Would you care for more?”
“In all honesty, Your Grace, not so much.”
His lips—the visible half, that is—curled into a lazy grin that did funny things to her heart.
“Honesty,” he mused. “A trait that I am beginning to appreciate.”
“You might not be so appreciative,” she warned. “Give or take a few more days.”
This time, the smile reached his eyes, and her heart did somersaults in her chest. He lowered his face until his lips hovered barely an inch from her ear.
“Follow my rules, my dear wife,” he told her, his voice dark and low. “And we will get along just fine.”
Theresa could only wish she had his confidence.
CHAPTER 6
There comes a time when a woman must leave her parents’ house to cleave to her husband, and they shall become one body…
The familiar words from the Holy Book filtered through the haze as Theresa quietly clasped her hands in prayer. This rule, she understood all too well. Nuns, when they cleave to their divine Husband, must leave the world behind them to devote themselves to Him. Which was all well and good, because they had lived in a world of familiarity most of their lives.
She, however, had only ever lived under her father’s roof foronenight, and now, she must cleave to her husband—this strange, magnetic man who spoke of imposing rules and getting along.
She was feeling very much like a hot potato being passed from one hand to another. Or like one of those floating plants by the river with no roots, to be carried wherever the current fancied.
She pressed her lips together into a resolute line. Drew another one in the proverbial sand. She would?—
“Excuse me, my dear, but I think it is time for us to leave.”
She looked up in dismay at the man towering over her. “What? Right now?”
“No, I am simply announcing that until you get used to the phrase in about three or four Sundays.” He smiled sardonically at her. “Of course, I meant now.”
Theresa frowned, her stomach churning.
“But the wedding breakfast has not ended yet!” She protested.
She had hardly even eaten from that mouthwatering display on the table, and they wereleaving?
Not if she had anything to say about it!
“This torment will not cease untilweleave,” the Duke explained. “Thetonnever runs out of things to talk about, and they will go on and on and onad nauseamuntil your ears fall off and your hair turns gray.”
“Well, that sounds lovely,” she told him resolutely. “And I shall have you know as well, husband, that I will not simply followyour rules like some poor hound at your beck and call. I shall have rules of my own as well!”
He looked taken aback by the sudden forcefulness of her tone. “Is that so?”
