The Duke of Ravenhill’s expression changed again. It didn’t exactly darken, but the amusement was gone from it, if not the intensity. He took two slow steps towards Rose, unthreatening but communicating some unknown intent. The atmosphere in the room thickened and Rose’s voice caught in her throat when she tried to say something more.
“You speak very calmly of bearing a child, Rose. I wonder if you know what it entails?” he said quietly, leaving this question hanging in the air between them, half challenge and half warning.
“I know that married women have children,” she replied, frustrated by how simple she sounded but unequipped to pretend she fully understood his question, never mind its answer. “Why shouldn’t I have a child like other married women?”
“I see.”
Studying her face carefully, Rose had the sense that Dorian saw exactly what he expected there, reading her lack of knowledge like a book. At such close quarters she could smell his cologneagain and thought of the night in the gardens at Ashbourne Castle when she was seized and held to this man’s chest.
As the echo of the lightning his touch had sparked rushed through her, Rose swallowed and forced herself to stand her ground rather than attempting to move away from him.
“I am not afraid, you know,” she said. “Not of you.”
Her voice trembled treacherously and the duke’s eyes missed nothing. His hand reached out slowly and brushed back a lock of blonde hair from her face.
“Not afraid of me, but afraid, nonetheless,” he countered softly, his hand now gently cupping her jaw.
How warm and good his fingers felt on her skin! Rose instinctively rubbed her cheek against him even while she gasped at the slight contact. Then, the Duke of Ravenhill leaned in closer and his lips took hers with a gentle ferocity that astonished and thrilled her.
Her own lips parted in automatic response and the duke’s tongue joined the hungry dance, one hand now in Rose’s hair and the other at her waist, holding her firmly to him. That kiss was a revelation, deliberate, consuming and irresistible. In the first dizzying moments, Rose gave herself up to it entirely.
It was not at all like the vague kisses of Rose’s fantasies, so chaste and clearcut and accompanied by long flowerydecorations of undying devotion. The man whose arms held her now was very, very real in a heated and almost animal way.
Wolf…
The word came back to her yet again as his teeth grazed her lower lip and Rose moaned with the jolt of heat this sensation provoked in her blood. It was like a spell he cast over her. The same spell the “Wolf of West London” cast over so many other women…
Thinking of Dorian Voss as a wild animal did not offend Rose’s sensibilities but the all-too-human nickname revealed by Madeline did. Wolves only obeyed their essential nature but rakes were deliberately wicked, weren’t they?
As if sensing Rose’s discomfort, her new husband drew back and released her, leaving her gasping for breath.
“Until you know what you want, how can you know if you are afraid or not?” the Duke of Ravenhill asked her, his voice low and rumbling. “Be careful what you ask for, Rose, until you understand it.”
Rose blushed furiously, feeling exposed but also soft and almost melted in the heat of those kisses.
“I understand that women should be very careful not to fall for your charms, Dorian Voss,” she answered. “I imagine that is enough.”
“Aha, so you do find me charming?” he inquired with a dark-eyed and teasing smile. “Or should I kiss you again to be sure?”
“I do not want to be charmed!” Rose insisted, suddenly irritated by his amusement. “Certainly not by a man whose hobby is charming every comely lady he meets. You are right that I have much to learn of the world, but I am not a fool or a pet animal to be alternately teased and indulged. I am a woman, with a heart and mind of my own.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted once more and the teasing expression vanished from the duke’s face. It was replaced by something cooler and more controlled.
“Well, I am pleased to hear you say that, Rose. My wife is the last woman I would ever want to charm. Such things can end very badly.”
Picking up a poker, he stoked the fire and threw on another log from the basket.
“You are free to live your life as you please, as long as you fulfill your duties as Duchess of Ravenhill. You shall have your own carriage, maid and social secretary if you require one. If you really want a child one day, I will give you that too, once you truly know what you’re asking for.”
Rose nodded silently. This had been what she wanted to hear from him after all – a clear statement of his expectations for her as Duchess of Ravenhill.
“That all sounds very reasonable,” she told him in stilted tones.
“I hope that I am, and that you will be equally reasonable. Our marriage may be one of necessity and convenience but that is no reason why we should not be friends, in time.”
Finishing with the fire, the Duke of Ravenhill turned away without meeting her eyes again.
Reasonable? Convenience? Friends?Rose blinked in bewilderment, trying to reconcile the duke’s latest utterance either with the passion of his kisses or her own ruined understanding of what a marriage ought to be.
