Page 31 of Wedded to the Beastly Duke
When they were in the drawing room and he was talking animatedly about fishing with the blacksmith, whose father-in-law was a merchant in the city and loved to fish, he couldn’t prevent himself from casting glances at the demure way Emmeline clasped her hands in her lap.
Once their guests had gone, he stared at her across the empty room and realized that all the evening had done was increase his hunger for her to voracious levels.
She was a feast for the taking—she was his, and he wanted to claim her with a ferociousness he had never experienced before.
Until now, all young ladies he had ever pursued, none virtuous, had welcomed his attentions. He’d never had a lady attempt to dissuade him or inform him that he couldn’t take what was his right.
She rose, her eyes on his, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of the same hunger on her face. Then she shook her head, ringlets bouncing, and closed her eyes.
“I’m tired, My Lord Duke,” she said. “I think I will retire.”
Not alone.
The words were on the tip of his tongue, but all evening he had been painfully distracted by her. If he allowed himself to give in to his desire now, he would become even more distanced from his work.
He had not come here to while away his time with a dalliance, or to get caught up with what was under a lady’s skirts.
“Very well,” he forced himself to say stiffly. “If you wish.”
“You were… remarkably generous today.” The words seemed reluctant.
“I welcomed the opportunity to dine with my people.”
She opened her mouth as though to say something more, and he imagined crushing his lips against hers, swallowing her words and her defiance and lighting her up with desire in the same way he was lit up.
He stiffened in his trousers, and he prayed she wouldn’t look down and see the evidence of his arousal. This was too far. He hadn’t so much as touched her.
“Goodnight,” she said. “Husband.”
“Goodnight, wife.”
The door closed behind her, and he balled his hands into fists to prevent himself from standing up and following after her.
* * *
Adam was not sure what brought him to the library the next day. A desire to know where Emmeline was, perhaps. She was not in the library, but those felines of hers were. One, a snowy white animal with unusually blue eyes, came to wrap itself around his feet.
“You are not the tabby I was expecting,” he murmured, bending down to run his hand over its back. It arched into his touch, tail curling around his arm. “What are you?”
Unsurprisingly, the cat didn’t answer, and he took a moment to look around. The kittens were making a mess of his furnishings, he noted, but although Emmeline had no doubt attempted to anger him with their existence, she had moved the delicate books far away so they wouldn’t become damaged. He smiled, but the expression dimmed as he ran a hand through his hair.
The truth was he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of his new wife. The compulsion that had forced him to make her his wife had dimmed, and now that he saw how desperately she was trying to get under his skin, he realized how miserable she must be.
This was entirely his fault.
Yet, what was he to do? He could hardly send her back to London now. She was his wife, people would talk. By keeping her here, he was protecting her as much as himself.
Still, he knew how taxing it must be to be tied to a man like himself. No wonder she was acting out. But with every attempt to make him dislike her, he found he was increasingly drawn to her.
There was probably a deficiency in his brain. The only woman to catch his attention in years, and she held no affection for him whatsoever. In fact, she positively despised being in his presence and his house.
One of the kittens staggered over to him, tail extended straight in the air. “Well then,” he murmured, bending down to scoop it up. “You are going to prove to be as much of a nuisance as your siblings.”
The door opened behind him, and Emmeline entered the room. “Oh,” she said, and her brow creased as she took in the sight of him holding the kitten. “Is there something you need, My Lord Duke?”
“For heaven’s sake,” he said impatiently. “Call me Adam.”
Her eyes glinted with challenge. “I would prefer not to. That level of intimacy is entirely repugnant to me.”
