Page 58 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
Now she couldn’t be certain that she could avoid Lord Moreton.
Another shiver rolled its way through her, and she ducked her head under the surface of the water.
Adrian did not expect to see his bride for the remainder of the afternoon, particularly as he shut himself away in his study with his papers and brandy, but when he came to dinner and saw an empty place setting, he experienced a flash of anger.
“Mrs. Hodge,” he said, summoning the housekeeper to his side. “What is the meaning of this?”
She looked at the table, then back at him. “Her Grace elected to eat in her rooms, Your Grace. I believe she wished to retire early.”
A headache pulsed in his temple. “Very well. Lay another place setting.”
“Your Grace?—”
“I shall speak to my wife myself.” With the edges of his anger singeing his restraint, he strode upstairs and rapped on her bedchamber.
Nothing.
He rapped again, and eventually she yanked the door open, dressed in a nightgown and robe. At the sight of him, her eyes narrowed.
“Well?” she demanded. “What right do ye have to come knocking at my door like this?”
“What right?” He entered and closed the door behind him. Better the servants not hear whatever row they were about to get into. “I am your husband. I have every right. Why are you dining upstairs?”
“Because I am tired and wish to retire early.”
He exhaled through his nose, folding his arms. “That does not mean you can skip dinner. You are my wife.”
“Aye, I know that. And I know that ye never wanted to marry me in the first place.” Twin spots of color appeared in her cheeks, dissolving her freckles into invisibility. “So why does it matter if I dine with ye or no?”
“Because you are my wife,” he repeated. “And yes, I never intended to marry you—or anyone. But it is done now, and I will not have you disobey me in my own home.”
Her nostrils flared, and a sudden bolt of lust moved through him. Was that what she had been hoping to avoid? Getting him into her bed?
“I don’t see why we must pretend,” she said. “We married out of obligation only.”
“That does not make our marriage any less true.” He stepped closer, and she tipped her chin up to meet him, not yielding any ground.
As always, when he challenged her and she challenged him back, he felt a thrill run through him.
“And I wish for us to dine together every night,” he said.
“Why?” she demanded. “For what purpose?”
“For the sake of propriety.”
She gave a bitter laugh. “This entire situation came out because of a lack of propriety, so there’s little point caring about it now.”
He gripped her chin, his fingers gentle against her skin. She was so delicate despite her defiance; he knew it would take very little for him to break her.
Her eyes widened, but she made no attempt to move away from him. And he, for his part, did not tighten his grip on her. He wanted her to face him, but he would never want her to be afraid of him.
“Tell me what happened to make you flee the ballroom,” he said.
“No. And ye cannae make me.”
“No?” He placed his other hand on her waist. “I have my ways and means, Isobel.”
“Just because I am your wife does not mean I cannae deny ye,” she warned.
