Page 23 of A Game with the Rakish Duke
“Of course,” he said, inclining his head politely and picking up his cup of tea. “And the bed? Was the mattress comfortable?”
Catherine shot him a wary look. “The mattress was sufficient, thank you.”
“Because we can change the mattress if you want,” he continued in a conversational tone before taking a sip of his tea. “There are close to twenty rooms in this house. It would be a simple matter of exchanging mattresses.”
She raised her eyebrows. He noticed her cheeks had turned pink.
“You see,” he said, smiling brightly at her, “some people prefer a hard mattress. Some like it soft.” His eyes lingered on her face. “I prefer mine as hard as I can manage.”
Catherine almost choked on her tea. She set down her teacup. Her entire face was pink now.
“Why are you so concerned with the quality of my mattress?” she asked in a tart voice, her green eyes flashing. “Do you think me so delicate that I might bruise from a misplaced feather? Or are you just hoping for an invitation to test it out yourself?”
His eyebrows shot up, and he smirked. “Is that an invitation then?”
“How fanciful you are,” she said in a hard voice before wiping her mouth with the napkin and standing up. “It is just as well then that my mattress is perfectly adequate and doesn’t need testing. Poor you.”
“Poor me, indeed,” he breathed, unable to take his eyes off her. “Where are you going? You have not finished your meal.”
“I am no longer hungry,” she huffed, giving him a withering look. “I think I shall take a walk. I need to become familiar with the grounds now that I am mistress of the house.”
Thomas opened his mouth to say that he would accompany her, but then closed it again. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were sparkling from their conversation. Nevertheless, she still seemed wary. Clearly, she wanted to get away from him.
“What fun,” he said slowly. “I will be walking around the grounds myself today, examining my estate. The stables and so on.” He paused, looking at her steadily. “Perhaps we might run into one another.”
“Perhaps,” she returned airily. “Or perhaps not. We shall see.”
She turned on her heel and marched out of the room. Thomas let out a deep breath, sitting back in the chair. He always knewit was going to be hard to resist her, but he didn’t realize exactlyhowhard.
It would be just the two of them rattling around this big house until they returned to London next week. How was he going to manage to keep his hands off her?
Catherine took off her bonnet, shaking her hair loose and gazing over the hillside. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the fresh country air.
It was beautiful in the countryside. From this vantage point, she could see for miles in all directions. She spotted a village below, the church spire pointing towards the sky. Perhaps she would take the carriage and explore it one day.
She sighed heavily before turning away and walking back down the hill towards the house. She needed to keep busy, and visiting the village would be a good way to kill time.
Beatrice had promised to visit her one day—she would take her dear friend to that village for a stroll. The more time she spent dodging the Duke, the better.
She felt like she was on tenterhooks, skirting her new husband, fearful he was going to approach her and come a little too close then her self-control would vanish into thin air. The hunger inhis eyes was just as intense this morning at breakfast as it had been last night when she had refused him.
She stopped abruptly and took off her jacket. She had been walking for miles, and it was so hot. She felt like ripping her gown off and running through the fields like a pagan, the wind in her hair, cooling her skin.
She grinned at the thought. One night, when she was seventeen, she was driven to near madness by the heat, so she climbed out of her bedroom window and swam in the nearby lake, underneath the moonlight. She had worn nothing but what God had given her. It had been the most wonderful and relaxing experience of her life, her skin caressed by the cool waters of the lake so softly, an embrace so sensual that she’d thought she would never experience again.
Until her first kiss withThomas, the rakish Duke. She still shivered just thinking about it.
It is gone. It will never happen again. Keep your husband at arm’s length. It is the only way.
She kept walking, swatting away flies with her bonnet, past golden haystacks, smiling politely at the farmers tilling the land. Butterflies careened through the air, dipping and diving. In the distance, she heard the faint trilling of birds. It was a truly beautiful morning. So why did she feel so bereft?
It is just that everything is so new and different. My life has changed so suddenly. That is all. I am bound to be feeling a little shaken by it all.
Catherine reached the dirt path leading back to the estate. She saw it in the distance, Newden Estate, sprawling in both directions. It was a very old estate in the Elizabethan tradition with its mullioned windows and tall, domed towers. Strange to think that it was one of her new homes now, along with the Duke’s London townhouse.
She hesitated. If she turned left, it would lead her straight back to the house. But it was still only mid-morning. That would mean that she would be forced to encounter the Duke again. She preferred to delay that possibility as much as she could.
Abruptly, she turned right, following the path in the other direction. It narrowed, turning into thick woodland. It was eerily silent as she walked through it, picking her way through the shrubs, feeling twigs brush against her as she passed. They felt like bony fingers.
