“Truly? Then prove your empty words and consummate our union.” I lift my chin, despising the strong emotions within me that cause it to tremble.
The Duke regards me with a shuttered expression, and I know I shall receive no satisfaction from him on this score.
Loathing rises to fill my being, and I am not sure which of us deserves the larger portion. “I confess once more: I have discovered what game you play,Your Grace.”
He blinks, appearing in this moment to be nothing more than an oblivious man. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, you may beg,” I snarl with rancor that threatens to consume me as longing had mere moments ago. “I shall never grant you my pardon. Now,doleave before I lose my senses.”
“My lady, I assure you, I do not know?—”
“You do!” I fling myself at him and stand on tiptoe so we are nose to nose. “You know exactly what you aim to do to me—to my child! I regret it took me so long to realize! You are the most loathsome cur to ever descend upon the ton!”
His eyes widen, rewarding me with a flash of pleasure at having drawn blood from him at long last. It is but a mere moment, his expression only giving me a glimpse of the fire my words have ignited, before it is gone.
“I fear I have no comprehension of what you imply, my lady. And I shall thank you to keep such remarks to yourself—it is far beneath your upbringing. They sully such a sweet mouth, and I fear if I should hear such again, it would force me to employ measures to ensure my lady wife only speak in a manner befitting her title. Measures you would not enjoy, I feel certain.”
I do not heed the warning in his tone, or in the rigidity of his posture. “If you will not consummate our union, then set me aside! Allow me to find another who will give me a future since you clearly do not intend to do so!”
His dark eyes grow darker still and I see a flush in his face I have never observed before. “No.”
I blink in confusion. “Simply that? Simply ‘no’? I do not understand you, my lord! If you do not mean to make this an honest union for my sake, for my child, then?—”
He puts a firm finger on my mouth and his eyes brim with fury. Yet, his voice is quite calm as he says, “You are my wife. You shall never be with another while I draw breath. Is that quite understood, my lady?”
I do not know what to feel, and I certainly do not understand. “You are quite right, my lord.” My voice has softened, though my disposition has not. “I spoke in haste.”
He regards me stiffly for a moment before he says, “Pray continue, my lady.”
“You did not descend upon the ton. In truth, I have no idea how you managed it, for your birth deems you unworthy, and every day, you prove your birth true, whatever title you may now possess.” I throw my head back, haughty in my fury. But as soon as the words have fled my mouth, I realize their folly.
One does not intentionally anger one’s husband, particularly when there is so much at stake. The skin along my bottom quivers, and I am besieged with a vision, recalling with sudden clarity the feeling of his knees pressing into my stomach, and the coolness of the afternoon air as it caressed my naked buttocks.
I fear my recollection must play across my face, but if he sees it, the duke gives no sign.
“I shall leave for but a moment, my lady. Until my return, I wish you to sit and rest. You are clearly overwrought from the excitement of the evening.”
My lips part to protest, to insist I am no such thing, but his sternly pointed finger, the quiet determination in his eyes, compel me to obey.
He watches, and as soon as I have sat upon the very edge of the armchair he has indicated, he withdraws. I can hear the quiet murmur of voices, though I cannot discern a single word.
Even when the speaking ceases, he does not return. I do not know what will happen next, only that whatever it is, I fear I shall not like it. My stomach is a mass of fretful knots tied so tightly, I can scarcely breathe.
How can I have been such a fool? Now I shall never have what I am after, and I truly cannot blame him. What man would ever wish to lie with a woman who says such things?
More than that, as my ire cools and reason deigns to return, I realize a far more shocking truth: I did not even mean it. Though His Grace may not be of noble birth, he has never said or done a single thing to deserve the remarks I’ve made. Though he persists in infuriating me with his demand, he has neverallowed himself to become angry at me for my refusal. Yet I, a highborn woman of a most respected family, flew into such a fury I insulted a man who has only been good to me.
Yes, it would seem I became quite committed to my folly.
When the duke enters the room once more, I am quite chastened.
“I am pleased you saw fit to follow my instruction, my lady.”
Even now, his voice is soft and genteel, and though he must certainly still be angry with me, nothing in his countenance or voice suggests it.
“My lord… if you would allow it… I would like to ask your pardon.” I long to hide from the burn of his gaze upon me, but I know if I am to make amends, I must not attempt to do so. I draw my breath sharply, release it slowly, and force myself to lift my head and meet his eyes.
There is no admonition to be found. He looks back at me, waiting.
