Page 57 of Trapped with the Forbidden Duke
It was only when Edwina was sinking beneath the oiled water, the scent of roses and jasmine rising from the bath, that she let herself truly feel her nerves. Alone, and in a calm space, perhaps for the first time in a long time.
She could barely process how she did not have to listen for the door closing to know that her brother had returned, or the crash of a window as he escaped again.
She was not there any longer. For the first time in many years, Edwina had nothing to be on edge over.
All she had to do was let the water soothe every knot of tension. But after being on pins and needles for so long, waiting for thenext calamity and next issue to smooth over before any nosy gossiper noticed, she found herself unsure how to relax.
It seemed strange not to know how to do such a thing, but her mind did not stop whirring, and her body could not release the tension.
Inhaling and exhaling, Edwina told herself that her brother was being cared for.
Lucien’s words echoed in her head as she relished in the luxurious bath.“You must let yourself be taken care of.”
But what of him? What of her new husband being taken care of?
Her stomach fluttered, and she shivered as she drew a fingertip up her thigh and imagined it was his.
In her memories, she was back in the parlor, with her dress pushed above her hips and the Duke’s hand splayed over her bare thigh, his mouth hot on hers. She chased the recollection with a gasp as she let her legs part, preparing herself for how it might feel to be touched so intimately.
But her hand clenched around her thigh. She was not able to do it herself. She could not bring herself to, stopped by her nerves and the pressure of wondering what her husband expected.
Had his parting words at the carriage been an invitation forhimto take care of her?
He had done so much for her already—surely, he was expecting something in return. He had claimed he did not want monetary compensation, but that did not mean he wasn’t expecting compensation of another sort. A duke would want to enjoy his wedding night with his wife. A wife he had already kissed. A wife whose lips had tasted the sound of his desire in a moment of weakness for them both.
The pressure mounted in her chest until her heart started pounding and her throat constricted.
Breathe.Simply breathe. You know the mechanics well enough.
And she did, but… her mind kept drifting back to her terrible attempt to seduce him on their first meeting.
Pushing aside the worry that she would come off as clumsy or awkward, Edwina strode to her bed, where her maid had laid out a more delicate, thinner nightgown and robe.
The insinuation was rather clear. This was not of the modest sort.
With shaking hands, Edwina dressed and went to the door that connected her husband’s room to her own.
Chapter Eighteen
Candlelight flickered in Lucien’s bedroom as he sat in his armchair, attempting to think over everything that had happened in the last several days.
But his head hurt, and his eyes were dry with fatigue, and he could finally admit that all he wished to do was rest. After evenings of searching for Nicholas and nights haunted by Edwina, only to marry her to save her family from utter ruin, he was exhausted.
Until a knock drew his attention.
He turned, sipping the last of the whisky he had poured himself while being told that his wife was settling in her rooms.
“Yes?” he called, realizing that the knock came not from the main door to his chambers but the one that connected his bedchambers to the Duchess’s.
Edwina’s bedchambers.
Edwina pushed open the door, and he prepared himself to soothe any worries she had upon leaving her family home—only to find her wearing a thin robe, fastened tightly, covering up the body that his hands had already half mapped out. And itched to do it again.
She paused in the doorway, her gaze sweeping over his room, before she breathed in deeply and entered his room fully. She closed the door behind her with her hip, and his eyes followed the delicious sway of her body.
Lucien cleared his tight throat and asked, “Yes, Duchess? Is anything the matter with your chambers?”
“No,” she answered, her voice sweet and low. “Not at all. My chambers are perfectly in order.”
