His amusement abruptly vanished at that. He loosened his arms and she scrambled to her feet, loose strands of tresses trailingbeside her temples, and her face cherry with embarrassment. He could have told her there was nothing to be embarrassed over—after all,shehad not been in danger of tenting her breeches—but that would steer too close to placation.
He cleared his throat. “I will give you some time to adjust yourself to the concept of marriage, and of me,” he began coldly. “I am not a cruel man, though I’m sure you may feel otherwise. But there will come a time,Aurelia, when you and I shall have to get better acquainted. We are, as you so eloquently put it, husband and wife.”
“…You said innameonly.” She pressed the backs of her fingers against her cheeks.
“So I did. As, so far, we are. But a man must have heirs, and to do so, he must bed his wife.”
If possible, her skin grew a deeper shade of red. “There is no need to be so crude, Your Grace…”
He made no attempt to correct her as to the use of his title. Very well, let her speak to him in such a way; he would do nothing to encourage intimacy between them. This—having her in his arms—had been a step too far. He had been too allured by the soft warmth of a young woman, and especially one who watched him with such flushed cheeks and pretty, sparkling eyes.
He had forgotten what attraction felt like. How inconvenient that he had to experience it now of all times.
At least she had been as unsettled by the experience as he had.
“I will give you some time,” he repeated. “Settle in here as well as you can. This is your home now, and I will not take that away from you.But,”—he planted his hands against the table and rose, towering over her far more menacingly than she could ever—“you shallnotenter the east wing again. Have I made myself clear? My chambers are out of bounds. The rest of the manor is yours; do not think to be greedy with your expectations.”
She had been, he could tell. Whatever had passed between them while he was feverish and half unconscious, it had given her reason to hope that he would be a kind and benevolent husband.
He would not be cruel. He would not force her, whether it was in his bed or elsewhere. But if she had been hoping for alovingmarriage amid a written proposal and a ceremony that amounted to a signature, she would be sorely disappointed. He did not indulge in such things.
She raised her gaze to his, defiance written across her face. But as he watched, she merely sank into a half-curtsy—a gesture that would have been an insult in any gathering. As a duke, his station entitled him to a far greater show of respect. A deliberate move, and one he could appreciate, even as it made him grind his teeth a little.
“I understand, Your Grace,” she murmured, her chin high. “I shall not bother you again.”
He wanted to slam the door behind her, but instead slumped back in his chair. It was only then that he noticed Aurelia had not taken any dinner.
Aurelia seethed viscerally as she marched back to her bedchamber. So she was to be used as abreeding mare, was she? That was why he had indulged in a wife—and that was why, no doubt, he had not selected a more well-bred lady. He would not taint a lady likethatwith his blatant disrespect.
Tears seared her eyes as she flung herself on her bed, no longer in the slightest bit hungry.
Of course it would not be an uncomplicated arrangement. And really, she could practically hear the Duchess of Fenwick telling her that she ought to be happy with her lot. A girl like her could hardly ask for more; she might well have married a worse gentleman to the same effect.
That was the purpose of wives, was it not? To bear their husbands’ children and manage their homes. That was why so many gentlemen married. A few, presumably, fell in love, but she knew that was not the case with this duke.
So why did she feel this hurt?
“I’m a fool,” she mumbled bitterly, to no one in particular. “Getting ahead of myself merely because I found himhandsome? Because he looked so vulnerable last night? Because…” Because for a heartbeat, she had felt a frisson ofsomething, and she could have sworn he felt it too. He had held her, almost cradled her against himself, his breath hot against her ear, his fingers curving around her waist.
“But—” she interrupted her wandering mind crudely, falling onto her back and staring at the ceiling, “—of course he would not want me. Why would he? He is arake.”
Truly, she had been an idiot to think, even for a second, anything else. Everything about him had been crafted for sin—a mouth like a blade; wicked dark eyes; a languid grace that would put a panther to shame. He was the sort of rakish man helpless ladies fell in love with from a distance.
The kind of rakish man whoruinedyoung ladies. No doubt he’d had plenty to his name!
And he washerhusband.
She would find out what it felt like to have him in her bed, touching her, doing all the things a married gentleman did. The details were somewhat hazy, but she presumed she would discover it when he had his way with her. And she presumed she might enjoy some of it too. But that was far and away from what she could bring herself to care about now.
She sat straight up. “I ought to be celebrating. The conquest of my handsome husband.” An angry laugh left her. “Now I will know what it is to lie with a man sowell-versedin the activity.Hah! And he has done me thehonorof considering me a suitable mother for his children.” She took her pillow and hurled it against the wall, imagining it landing against his face.
“Well, so he thinks! But I will not sit back and let him make me feel small. I will have my own friends. My own circle and my own influence. Surely that cannot be so very difficult as a duchess.” She turned to her reflection, noting the hectic flush on her cheeks with a grimace. Who washeto have this effect on her?
Companionship would solve everything. She was aduchess. There had to be someone in this small corner of the country with whom she could be friends with.
Once she was able to shed her past and come into herself, she would havehimon his knees, and then he could describe whether he preferred grovelling or pleading. She wasn’t particular.
Just then, an image flashed uninvited through her mind of him on his knees before her, but she shut it down at once with a scowl.
