Page 31 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“Your Grace, where shall I place these curtains you sent for?” a footman asked in the doorway, trying not to look between them.
Veronica was stunned speechless at the kiss. Henry’s gaze was fixed past her now before he cleared his throat and stepped back.
Before she could say anything, the Duke withdrew completely and walked away, out of the room, and Veronica was left flustered, gesturing idly for the waiting footman.
Her face was burning as furiously as her body as she fought to catch her breath.
She brushed her fingers over her lips, recalling the feel of the Duke’s mouth, and her body tingled with eagerness.
She desperately wanted him to kiss her again.
Chapter Eleven
“That woman,” Henry growled, waking up in his bedroom after more frustrating dreams.
It had been a few days since he had given into his desire and kissed her.
She had clouded his mind ever since, centered every thought around herself, wrapped herself so securely in his head that he could not think of anything else.
Beneath the sheets, he moved a hand down towards where he had awoken, aching. But he stopped, closing his fingers into a fist. He thought of her soft, plush mouth beneath his, how he had tasted the gasp, and that quiet noise of desire. What other noises might she make?
He resisted the urge to take himself in his hand again.
“This is ridiculous,” he muttered to himself, shoving himself out of bed. “She irks me. That is all.”
And yet, when he had pushed her back into that chair, she had arched for him, as if…
As if she had liked the rough push.
Henry shoved a hand through his hair and sighed, standing up and reaching for the jacket, breeches, shirt, and waistcoat that had been left out the night before.
He had needed things so prepared lately, for his mind certainly had not been on the right things. No, they drifted to a dark-haired beauty who was now his Duchess.
A disobedient one at that.
The thought had him snarling again as he knotted his cravat angrily and stalked from his bedroom, down the hallway, intent on losing himself in his work again.
As he entered the study, he paused, looking around.
Indeed, it was full of his late uncle’s taste, and hedidmiss the dark comfort of his Turner Hall study. He tried to keep his thoughts on that instead of Veronica, and he hunkered down at his desk, pulling a stack of ledgers towards him. There was rent to iron out for the villagers, livestock to take note of, letters to write, and business meetings to arrange.
“That is where my focus should be,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not on an insolent woman whose tongue is as sharp as her wit.”
But that thought only led him to think of what else her tongue might do, and he groaned, dropping his head into his palm. The thoughts only grew worse when, as the day wore on, he heard Veronica’s voice drifting through the house. Even with his door closed, he heard her bright voice, always dripping with optimism.
He despised it.
“And I should think we can make a start on the Duke’s study once he has finished his work,” her voice came through the open door.
He had never had to close his study before. He should not have to now simply because his wife did not know to stay away.
He had told her to stay out of his work and business.
So why did her face appear in the doorway, followed by Mr. Worthington once again?
For a second, their gazes locked across his study.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” the Duchess said.
