She pressed her lips together and prayed for restraint. Perhaps a tiny bit of Ash’s restraint had rubbed off on her, and she wouldn’t kill his son.You cannot kill him, Fliss. Was knocking him unconscious acceptable?
“Hands. Off. Colborn.”
His fingers trailed over her neck, and he tried to pull her hands away from her breasts, but she didn’t budge.
“Stop being such a tease, Felicity. It’s not as if we haven’t been together already.”
Felicity snorted, but he clearly missed the derision in it. Their one time together had been nothing short of pitiful. Short, reeking of alcohol, and completely lacking any pleasure on her end.
“I’m not teasing you. I don’t want your eyes on me like that, let alone your hands.”
He tugged harder and managed to drag her hands down. “You complain that I sleep with other women. Hiding yourself and saying I can’t touch you isn’t the way to get me to stop.”
Her eyes flew wide. “Are you fucking jesting, Colborn? You arenotblaming me right now for the fact that your prick has familiarized itself with the majority of England’s female population.”
He cupped her breast, and her stomach turned. She swatted him away, but his hands went right back.
“Fine, it’s not your fault I have a healthy appetite. But perhaps it would belessif you let me feast on you more often.”
Good Lord, she was going to vomit on him. She almost hoped she did.
She grabbed his wrists and held them away from herself. “No, Colborn. Not now, not ever.”
The only person she wanted to feast on her was his father. She almost said so, but she couldn’t do that to Ash. Even knowing it would wound Colborn where he was most vulnerable—his pride.
But her final attempt to sleep with Ash hadn’t been about revenge. It had been pure, painful panic. Her last chance to be with the man she had fallen in love with. And it would hurt Ash if Colborn knew. The question she’d agonized over at Willow Grove—who would she hurt? It wasn’t going to be Ash.
Colborn tried to shake her off and move back to groping her breasts, but she held tight. She had wrestled with her brothers plenty when she was younger. She would put him in a bloody headlock if she had to. The cad would probably enjoy it. She growled again and internally slapped herself when his gaze went from frustrated to heated.
The heat didn’t last long though, as she continued to thwart his attempts to touch her. Frustration furrowed his brow, and his smile was replaced with a flat, pinched line.
“You do realize this little act won’t work, Felicity. You are to be my wife. You have to bed me. You don’t provide any use for me otherwise.”
She inhaled sharply at his words. She already knew how he viewed her, but hearing it spoken aloud? That her sole purpose was to provide him an heir, she a mere vessel for the future Duke of Devonford, cut her to the core. If Felix didn’t grant her release from this betrothal, she would flee. She didn’t know where to, but anywhere, any fate would be better than this. She couldn’t endure the future that awaited her.
“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, and that includes marrying you, Colborn.”
They glared at each other, and he attempted a last struggle before petulance painted itself thick over his face.
“Fine! I don’t want you, anyway!” he shouted and shoved her away from him.
She tilted off balance at his abrupt shove and stumbled backwards, crashing into the sideboard. Her back collided with the wood corner and pain radiated up her spine, pulling a sharp cry from her lips. Her legs crumpled, and she dropped to the floor, hands clutching her back as a litany of curses fell from her mouth.Big bumbling bugger fuck!
Colborn’s face went pale and completely slack, eyes wide and panicked. She glared at him. Now he felt remorse? After he shoved her into England’s pointiest cornered sideboard.
He opened his mouth, but before he could form any words, he was ripped from her vision and shoved up against the paneled wall of the library.
“You dare lay your hands on a woman!” Ash roared at his son, holding Colborn prisoner against the wall.
Felicity’s breath stalled in her lungs. The Duke before her was unlike any version of himself she had ever seen. Cool, composed, and reserved Ash had vanished.ThisAsh was as frightening as the Norse gods and monsters that fascinated him. His chest heaved, body taut and poised—poised to do harm, if the fury blazing in his eyes was any indication. Out of control.
His hand flexed on Colborn’s throat.
“Have Ieverlaid a hand on you?” His voice ricocheted through the library. “Did I ever to your mother? Have I ever even raised my voice in anger at you until now?”
Colborn’s eyes grew even wider, fear flaring his nostrils with each breath. Still able to breathe, then. Felicity took a breath of her own. Ash still held a semblance of control, despite his grip on his son’s neck. At the moment, he wasn’t going to kill his son, but the rage shaking his frame had her on her feet and padding toward him.
“Yet you think,” he bit out in a hair-raising, soft tone. “You have the right to put a hand to your fiancé, to any woman?”
