Page 21 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
His mouth was at her ear, and she could feel his warm breath.
“It is the truth,” he whispered back, his breath ruffling a small curl. “I never lie about such things.” He straightened, grinning. “I suppose I should be grateful that you did not skip down the aisle wearing boy’s trousers and a cap on your head.”
Catherine stifled a laugh. “I should have done it,” she teased. “Just to scandalize the ton. They would have whispered about it for months, Your Grace.”
He looked amused. “If anyone could do such a thing and get away with it, it would be you,” he whispered, his eyes lingering on her face. “I have never met someone like you before.”
Her heart skipped another beat. Already, she was succumbing to his charms, and they hadn’t even exchanged their vows yet.
Focus, Catherine. This is for your brother’s sake only.
“Your Grace.” The vicar stepped forward. “Shall we begin?”
The Duke nodded. “Yes. Let us begin, Reverend. I am certain that our guests do not wish to be seated here forever.” He turned back to Catherine, his eyes lingering on her face as he whispered to her, “Besides, I have business with you, young lady, which can only be accomplished once you have that ring on her finger.”
Catherine blushed fiercely. Mortified, she looked away. Her heart was beating frantically now.
Why was he doing this? He knew it was a marriage of convenience. Those were the terms. So, why was he looking at her and speaking as if he wished to rip her wedding gown off her the minute they were married?
I must keep my distance. I must not indulge this. If I do so, it will be at my peril.
Catherine’s mind was awhirl by the time they reached Newden Estate which was located in Kent on the outskirts of London. The wedding ceremony and breakfast were over, and now, it was just the two of them.
The staff was assembled at the front of the house, in a line, awaiting their arrival. As Catherine stepped out of the carriage and was formally introduced, she felt a wave of nerves overwhelm her. Would he keep his promise and insist they keep this a marriage of convenience?
After changing for dinner, she drifted to the balcony where a private table had been set up for the evening meal. But as she sat down, the housekeeper, Mrs. Gray, walked in, curtseying to her.
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” the housekeeper said, “but His Grace will not be dining with you this evening. He sends his apologies.”
Catherine’s jaw dropped. She nodded at the housekeeper, who curtseyed again before walking away.
Catherine sighed heavily, gazing into the grounds. She knew she should be relieved he was keeping his distance as he had promised he would, but she couldn’t deny the small knot of disappointment that formed in her chest, refusing to go away.
Thomas lingered at the secret window, his hand on the thick velvet curtain, watching Catherine as she picked at her food. Even the way she ate was sensual.
His eyes lingered on her face. Those full lips, those high cheekbones, those big green eyes full of intelligence and fire. ByJove’s beard, she was beautiful. He ached to drag her up to the bedchambers now and be done with it.
The day had dragged on. The wedding breakfast had seemed to last forever. They had barely had a chance to exchange two words. His grandmother had commandeered Catherine, giving her the third degree, as it was the first time she had met his new wife. He could tell the Dowager Duchess was impressed with her by the small nod of approval she had given him.
And now, his new wife was having dinner by herself on the small balcony overlooking the grounds. He had made an excuse that he had business to attend, but really, it was just so he could stand here and watch her, desire thickening his blood.
He watched her nibble on a piece of chicken, biting it delicately, pulling at the flesh with her teeth. He shuddered, imagining that delectable mouth nibbling on his flesh, biting and nipping him, grazing along his skin.
His eyes dipped lower to the bodice of her gown where the swell of her creamy breasts strained against the fabric. He imagined his hand slipping into the bodice, taking one breast in his hand, caressing it until the delicate peak turned as hard as a pebble, watching her face transform with desire…
He was so hard now that it was painful. All day he had been in a state of semi-arousal, gritting his teeth, trying to take his mind off it, ever since the moment he had seen her walking down the aisle.
She had taken his breath away. The vision of her, in her creamy wedding gown with orange blossom in her hair, would be hard to shake off. He had been overcome with a desire so strong that he wanted to march up to her, sweep her up in his arms, and whisk her away right then and there.
Enough was enough. He had tortured himself for far too long, even though watching her was exquisite. He pulled aside the curtain and marched into the room, feeling like he was on a trigger point.
Catherine jumped. She looked at him, her fork suspended in the air.
“Where have you been?” she asked in a strangled voice.
“I am sorry,” he said quickly, his heart thumping hard as he gazed down at her. “But I wanted to give you time to adjust to this.” He took a deep breath. “How are you liking Newden Estate?”
“I like it well enough,” she replied, gazing up at him steadily. “That was very respectful of you. How considerate you are.”
