Page 36 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
“I have warned you before of asking too many questions,” he warned her, his voice dropping so low that it curled heat through her. “And I will do it again if I must. Do not ask me questions again.”
“You are impossible,” she hissed.
“And I do not care what you think of me.”
Annoyed, Veronica resolved to return to her own chamber, but something pulled her back, making her turn back towards the Duke.
“I have noticed that you are avoiding me. Why is that?”
Henry ignored her as he walked past, scowling at her for a moment as he reached the main staircase.
He was already unbuttoning his waistcoat, and she could not help watching the muscles move in his back as he did so. A black shirt clung to his figure, and she found that if she looked hard enough, she could see exactly what shape he hid beneath.
A man of power and bulk—a man who was practically twice her height and build.
She swallowed but still followed him as he walked up the stairs.
“Answer me,” she requested, her voice firm.
She stumbled a little on the steps, her shoes catching on the new, pale blue runner. Recovering before he even noticed, she continued to follow him as he tried to retreat upstairs.
He turned onto the hallway before ascending another set of stairs that led to a hallway that their chambers branched off from.
“I do not have to justify myself to you,” he said, sounding apathetic, his voice flat. “I am a man, allowed to do as he pleases.”
“Am I not your duchess?” she shouted. “You promised me security, not a prison. I am your wife, and I do have a right to know where you have been.”
“This is not a prison,” he snapped. “And I will not explain myself in my own home.”
“It is my home now, too,” she reminded him, a bite in her voice. “Where you have been all evening, coming home smelling of ale so late in the night?”
At that, his eyes narrowed, an arrogant smirk on his face, as he leaned in to her just as he reached the top of the second staircase. She followed his movements, leaning back to avoid his closeness.
“Are you jealous, Duchess?”
She lifted her chin. “No. I am not.”
But her movement was too quick, her ego growing with her insistence to show him she was not affected by him, and she lost her balance.
Her heel slipped right off the top step, but before she could fall, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back onto the steady ground of the hallway. She was quickly pressed to his chest, and she made a small noise of a struggle.
Her heart raced as she peered down at where she would have tumbled right down, likely hitting her head on the marble floor below.
Shakily, she looked back to the Duke, whose face had drained of color. His eyes were wide, his breathing more erratic.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice less controlled.
Veronica managed a nod.
“I am quite steady,” she whispered.
Their gazes did not leave one another’s. His panicked eyes looked over her, and his arm was still around her waist. Through her thin nightdress, she felt the silk of the Duke’s unbuttoned waistcoat, and she wanted to know how it might feel against her fingers.
The Duke pulled her further towards him, away from the stairs, so they were securely around the corner of the hallway.
I have never seen him look so distressed, she thought.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
