Page 36 of Madcap with a Marquess
His gaze dipped to her curls, and the immediate zing of lust that shot through him only fueled his panic. Oh God. His breathing picked up, hurried and hoarse.
Her brows puckered, and she stared at him as though he didn’t even know his basic sums. “Urm, yes, Rupert. I wanted to. Idemandedit. And Iquiteliked what you did with your mouth. I fail to see the problem.”
He closed his eyes, tried to calm his breaths, but something was twisting an ever-tightening web around his lungs. “Yes, and you are known as a model of decorum,” he gritted out.
Silence greeted him, and he glanced at his wife. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, hiding her breasts from him.Her lips were pressed so tightly, they were the thinnest he’d ever seen them, and she tapped her foot against the dirt floor, a little cloud of dust rising with each tap.
“Well, it’s true,” he argued, desperately trying to rub away the dense knot building in his chest. Not once growing up had she ever found a rule she didn’t purposely break. “If it’s a behavioryou’lldo, you can pretty much be sure it’s something that shouldn’t be done. You have never behaved as a proper lady ought. It was not exactly a secret that ensuring you conduct yourself properly was going to be one of the biggest challenges of this marriage.”
Her lips flattened even further, a feat he hadn’t thought possible. He feared their lushness might disappear forever. With a look that made him feel as though she’d stepped in something foul, she walked past him and bent to retrieve her clothes.
And his breath froze in his lungs, trapped there, ready to breathe, but his body denying him the crucial function. A cruel jest. Denial tore through him. He took a step backward, shaking his head. No,no,no.He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could unsee it. But the image was scraped into his brain.
Her back.
His eyes flew open, and he accepted his punishment. He stared at his sin. A patchwork of pink and red raw flesh covered her back, a scattering of deep red cuts, most prominent at her shoulder blades and lower back. Dark crimson beads reflected in the sun’s rays peeking through the window, in some places building so much it dripped down her back.
Blood.
She threw her chemise over her head and shimmied until it fell around her. And in an instant the blood seeped into the fabric, red blotches growing, growing, as the fabric absorbed his sin. How could he have harmed his wife in such a way?
His mother’s words came rushing to the forefront.Impulsive behavior and lack of control is for poets, actresses, and residents of Bedlam.
God, he should be locked up.
A pounding started up in his temples, in his ears, drowning out all sound. His chest constricted. His lungs wouldn’t pull in air. He doubled over, and a wheeze burst from him as his vision dotted over. The pressure in his chest turned crushing. Bile burned his throat. God, was this his body punishing him?
Immoral.
Sinner.
Heathen.
“Rupert?”
He barely registered Franny’s voice through his haze. He closed his hands over his ears, tried to block out his thoughts, his mother’s voice.
Immoral.
Sinner.
Heathen.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched.
“Rupert?” Her voice was higher now, alarm evident.
“No!” he burst out.
Her hand jerked away. “Rupert, what’s wrong? What can I do?”
“Go,” he bit out. “Please, leave.”Please, Franny.“I need to be alone,” he managed.
Silence greeted him, and then the slow pad of her footsteps before the softclickof the door echoed through the lodge.
His breathing slowed, and he stumbled backward until his back met with the wall. He sagged against it, his palms splaying across the boards. Therough, abrasiveboards. His fingers curled, biting into the wood. That he had fucked his wife against. And destroyed her back.
He had gone too far. This had gone too far. A sharp pain sliced through his twisting insides. Three days into his marriage, and he couldn’t be near his wife without turning into a lustful beast. Without succumbing to his prurient desires. Without hurting her. She pushed him too far with her antics. He had thought he had more mastery over his person. But Franny’s glaring disobedience and his unwanted desire were too potent a combination. He couldn’t resist.
