Had he read her mind?
“Is refusing an option?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“I am not in the habit of forcing unwilling women into my bed.”
“I have made commitments to yourself, Kendall.” Squaring her shoulders, Isolde forced the words past her nervous lips. “I will always do my duty.”
He snorted, lifting his dark eyes to hers.
“I do not want yourduty,” he leaned on the word with sardonic asperity, surprising her with his directness. “I want your willing participation. I want your enthusiasm, Duchess.”
Duchess.
Despite her shock at Kendall’s bluntness, she couldn’t help but feel a jolt at the moniker.
And herwilling participation?Enthusiasm?
The very syllables conjured a slew of images—the varied ways she could enthusiastically participate with him.
Heat flooded her chest and sent a blush scouring her cheeks.
Kendall watched the whole with his typical impassive gaze, as if her answer mattered not at all to him.
Well.
If he wished her to be awillingpartner in the event of consummation, he would need to be less Kendall-ish.
Perhaps appear more enthusiastichimselfat the prospect.
“In that case, I should like a reprieve,” she replied, unable to keep the relief from her voice.
“You need not appear so alleviated. Is the thought of marital relations with myself so abhorrent?”
“Nae,” she rushed to say, willing her fiery cheeks to cool. “It is simply that this is all . . . so sudden. And it would be nice to take a wee space of time to . . . to know one another better afore . . .” She let her meaning drip off the end of ellipses.
Beforeenthusiastic, willing participationas it were.
She swallowed. Loudly.
“As you wish,” he replied, turning to look out the window once more.
Lovely.
She had clearly disappointed him.
Isolde had brothers and, therefore, knew enough of the male ego to recognize a frustrated man when she saw one.
It was simply . . .
How could she make love with a man who was essentially a stranger?
Silence stretched between them, trembling and fraught.
But, she had to wonder . . . if she did go to his bed . . . would it help uncover the kinder version of him she had glimpsed in the ice house?
Biting her lip, Isolde asked the next question burning her tongue. “If I delay consummating our marriage, will ye simply look elsewhere for pleasure? Your mistress, perhaps?”
Those dark eyes whipped back to her, turbulence churning in their depths.
