Page 30 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
Henry groaned and stepped closer.
“Do you know what a rule is, Duchess?” he asked her, cocking his head. “It is something to be followed and obeyed. It is not that I wish to deny you redecoration. It is that I wish toknowabout it. For you to follow rules that I put into place.”
“And that is all I am, is it?” she challenged. “A wife to obey your commands? If I am to obey, I shall not do it blindly. And I shall not live in a house that looks like the inside of a circus.”
Henry paused. Her face was flushed with her own challenging anger.
Helikedthis, he realized. Nobody had fought back against him quite the way she did.
“Is our marriage to be subjected to rules, then?” she questioned. “For I have been here for three days, as you say, and so far, youhave not been present. I have dined alone, broke my fast alone, and walked the rooms alone. Do forgive me, Your Grace, if I have not followed any rules, for you have not been here to instill them.”
“Ah, I see,” he drawled. “So, it is my fault?”
“I am merely stating facts. I have seen neither sight nor sound of you.”
“And that is what you wished, is it not?” he asked. “After all, once your brother is found, we shall live separately.”
“You truly wish to never see me?” she hissed. “You do not care to even pretend to dine with me for the sake of keeping up a pretense?”
“I do not care about anything.”
“You cared enough to offer me this security,” she fired back.
“And you have it.” He moved closer. “Is it not enough? You wish us to pretend to be man and wife?”
His eyes locked onto hers, and he waited for her to back down, to look away, but she did not. That stoked something in him—ire or desire, he did not know.
Perhaps both.
“But the thing about a good wife is that she…” He paused, his eyes darting down to her lips. “… obeys.”
Veronica took a sharp inhale. “And what if I do not?”
The words left Veronica’s lips, a challenge, even if she did not mean it so. The Duke’s dark gaze was fixed on her so intensely she could not breathe easily.
His eyes traced her face.
“Andwhat…” she whispered again, “if I do not obey you, Your Grace?”
And then the Duke’s hands were clasping her face, drawing her close, towards him.
Veronica’s hands were pressed between their bodies; she felt his racing heartbeat beneath his clothes, felt his quickened breaths the moment before his mouth swept across hers.
Veronica gasped in surprise. She reached for the chair that, moments ago, she had been talking about having reupholstered and found herself pressed into it, the Duke’s mouth chasing her backwards.
She took in a sharp breath in a single second between his lips meeting hers again.
Then his hand gripped her face tighter, angling her head to deepen the kiss, and his other hand held onto the arms of the chair as if to keep her there.
Veronica did not even think for a moment of escaping. Not as he kissed her with such an intensity that she lost her breath; she did not care to have it back if it meant ending the kiss.
Her hands reached for the buttons of his waistcoat—not to undo them but to hold onto something, to ground herself in the whirlwind of the Duke kissing her.
She made a soft, pleasured noise, and the Duke groaned in response, pressing closer to her. Veronica gave in, sliding her fingers into that dark length of his hair, arching up to him.
Her body was on fire, and she could only hope he would let her burn brighter and harder.
The sound of a door opening had them flying apart. The Duke snapped upright, withdrawing both his hands. His hair was disheveled, and her lips parted in uncertainty as he gazed back at her with a wild look in his eyes.
