The Duke and the Accidental Bride (Duchesses of Convenience #5)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

T hey walked through the manor in silence.

Isabella walked ahead, her mind racing, her body shaking as the adrenaline from earlier left her, replaced now by fear as she was forced to reckon with the consequences of her actions. She did not know the Duke very well, but she knew enough. Enough to know that what she had just done, what she had just said, was bound to make him angry.

And this anger... a part of her wondered if it might be worth fleeing now before he had a chance to unleash it.

"I am so sorry,” Isabella began as soon as she stepped through the door and into the drawing room. “I don’t know what happened. I just started talking and – woah!” The Duke’s hand wrapped around her arm, pulled her back, and shoved her against the door.

It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t aggressive. But it was done with command, power, a level of control that was useless to fight against. Isabella felt herself stumble as her back pressed against the closed door and before she could fathom what had happened the Duke was on her.

One hand on either side of her face, trapping her against the closed door, he stood over her like a wolf might its cornered prey. She was so small compared to his hulking frame. So helpless. And where she might have liked to have stood up to him... well, one look at the demented rage that took his visage, and she cowered back like a lamb.

His eyes were bloodshot. His teeth were beard. His body trembled. She had never seen such rage! More than that, she had never found herself trapped before it.

“What. Were. You. Thinking!” He bit each word off as if tearing raw meat from a freshly slain carcass.

“I... I... I...”

“What were you thinking!” he snarled again, somehow getting closer to her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck. She could feel the thumping of his heart... or perhaps that was her own. “Engaged? Engaged! Have you lost your mind.”

“It was an accident!” she cried, unable to look at him.

“It was no such thing.”

“I did not – I did not mean it!”

“And yet you said it. Unprovoked.”

“Your mother --”

“Do not blame my mother,” he snarled again. “She baited you, I will admit it. But you...” His laughter was cold and cutting. “You walked right into it like a damn mouse sniffing at cheese. I have never seen one so easily trapped.”

She winced, still unable to look at him. “I just... it was the way that she spoke of me – of us. I... I... I have a bad habit of speaking without thinking.”

“Is that your excuse? Your uncle told me that you were smart. He told me that you were unlike most other women of this insufferable ton .” More laughter, just as cold. “It seems that he vastly overestimated you. As did I.”

“I am sorry...” she said in a whisper.

“Sorry? You think that will make a difference?” He did not shout. In fact, he had not raised his voice once. But he did not need to. The fact that he was able to speak so calmly, with such anger still inherent in his words, made him all the more terrifying.

And indeed, Isabella was terrified. She knew there was no need, that he would not hurt her. But logic did little in circumstances such as this, and still trapped between his arms, still feeling his warm breath on her neck, it was all she could do not to scream.

“I --” She caught her tongue and tried for a deep breath. She even forced herself to look at him... although it was more a glance, unable to meet his eyes. “I can tell them that I have changed my mind. That I misunderstood. That I was wrong and that we are not engaged.”

“And you think that will work?”

“It is worth a try.”

“You still do not understand, do you?” He leaned in closer, and she pressed her body harder against the door. “Pandora’s Box has been opened and there is no closing it.”

“But we can try!” She forced herself to look at him again, this time meeting his eyes. The fury that was present in them earlier was fading, now taken by a sense of regret.

“We cannot.”

“But --”

“I said no!” He shouted, raising his voice for the first time. She gasped and looked away once more, shrinking down as if she might just slip through the crack of the door if she wished it hard enough.

Shockingly, this was the moment that the Duke chose to calm down. As if he realized that he had gone too far. He dropped his hands from beside her head and took a step back. He cursed silently, ran a hand through his hair and turned his back on her.

“All you had to do was stay silent. And you could not even do that.”

“I am sorry...” Shame flooded her.

“Again, you say that you are sorry.” He chuckled coldly and turned around to face her again. No longer angry. No longer disgusted. Resigned, it appeared. Accepting the situation in a way that she had not yet been able. “I assure you, Miss Gouldsmith, you have not even begun to understand the depths of that word.”

“What... what does that mean?”

“It means that you have forced my hand. I have spent my entire life building a reputation that I take great pride in – one which I will not have tarnished because you could not keep your mouth shut for a single evening.”

“I –”

“My mother now thinks we are to wed. My grandmother thinks it. I told them it is so, and I will not go back on my word. We have no choice. We are to be wed.”

Isabella gasped.

In all the excitement and shock of these last few minutes, she had not had time to consider the dire implications of what had she had done. Too busy fearing the Duke, too busy worrying about what he might do in the moment, she was yet to understand the consequences of her most wicked tongue.

Isabella had no desire whatsoever to marry. None. Her aspirations were aimed much higher than that, beyond what most ladies of her station might ever dream. But marriage? A family? If you had asked her yesterday about such things, she might have said that she would rather die.

Is that still an option?

“Oh, do not look so aghast,” the Duke scoffed. “As if this is not your fault.”

“There must be a way out,” she spoke quickly, mind now racing.

“Forget it,” the Duke said.

“But I do not understand why you are so insistent” she continued as if he had not spoken. “Yes, I understand your reputation and the worries you have there. But surely –"

“I said forget it!” he snapped. Again, he came for her, this time stopping a mere foot away. “We spoke of consequences earlier, and I warned you --” He clenched his jaw and took a breath as if trying to keep his cool. “I warned you of what would happen if they were not heeded.”

“But marriage!”

“It is done,” he said. “As much as it pains me. And believe me, Lady Gouldsmith, pains me it does. But I will not have my name ruined because of you.”

She shook her head. “No... I... it cannot – I will not do it.”

“Excuse me?” There was a bite to his voice.

Isabella forced herself to look up at the Duke. Into his dark eyes, past the terror, past the fear, to the man who she hoped possessed something that came close to soul. “I said that I will not do it. And... and...” She steeled herself in the face of his mounting rage. “You cannot make me.”

She braced for the torrent of anger.

She readied for the shouting.

She prepared herself for him to throw the full force of his weight behind his authority and power and command and to bully her into submission.

Shockingly, he did no such thing.

“You are saying no to me?” He sounded confused.

“Th -- that’s right.”

He sighed and shook his head. A slight smile worked its way up the side of his mouth. She thought he was going to laugh. And Isabella, well she very nearly relaxed.

But then his hand struck out.

She gasped and shut her eyes, not knowing what to expect. But his touch was gentle. Soft. Cupping his hand on her cheek and just under her chin, he held it there as if he was cradling her face... as if he meant to kiss her but wanted to feel the softness of her skin before daring to make such a move with his lips.

Isabella’s eyes were still closed as she reckoned with his touch.

It was warmer than she had expected, his large hand taking up nearly half the side of her face. And though she hated to admit it, the feel of his skin on her own had her body trembling in a way she might never have guessed possible. This man who terrified her... suddenly, she felt safe, even protected in ways that were an athame to who he was and how she knew she should feel about him.

“I understand that you are upset.” He spoke calmly, his voice low. “And I do not blame you. But there is nothing that you can do now. I have made the decision this marriage is happening, and it is best that you accept it now. It will make things a lot easier.”

Eyes still closed, Isabella forced them open and glared at the Duke. She mustered all the courage that she had as she looked at him directly.

“I will not marry you,” she said with a snarl. “And there is nothing you can do about it.”

And that was all it took.

His eyes flashed anger and the calm facade was gone. Hand still cupping her face, the grip tightened slightly as if he meant to crush her head. She tried to pull away, but he stepped in closer, leering over her once more.

Her body began to shake. Fear, she assumed it to be. Trepidation because she had no idea what this man was capable of. But she did not look away, her heart beating fast, her body running hot, her legs and her entire body shaking in ways that they never had before.

“You are impetuous,” he growled. “And a slow learner.”

“You have no idea,” she growled back at him as if tempting him toward further anger. As if she wanted it!

“I do not want to force you. I do not wish to...” He took a deep breath. His eyes then flicked down her body... lingered on her chest for a moment too long... and then he tore them back. “To do anything regrettable. But this marriage will happen. It is as simple as that.”

“And if I refuse?”

He clicked his tongue, again flicking his eyes down her body. “When will you understand? There is nothing that you can do to stop this. One thing you need to know about me, Miss Gouldsmith, is that once I come to a decision, it is final.”

“You want this more than you are willing to admit,” she shot back. “Now that I think of it, perhaps that as the true reason that you forced me to come tonight.”

“Is that what you think?”

She licked her lips. “I am starting to.”

His lip curled as he leaned over her. Hand still on her face, it moved around slowly, under her chin, and then over her mouth. He leaned in closer, putting his face, his lips, right in front of his hand so that their eyes were an inch apart.

“You are the one who brought this on us,” he said menacingly. Somehow, he stepped in even closer so that their bodies were pressed; his massive frame against her chest so that she could feel him. “And where I do not want it, I at least have some semblance of honor about me.”

She tried to speak but his hand covered her mouth so, caught in the moment, she did the only thing she could think. She bit him! The inside of his hand, she found some skin between her teeth and latched on.

He grimaced but did not pull away. Their stares held. His angered. Her own daring. Harder she bit into him and still he did not move his hand.

Rather, he leaned in so that his ear grazed her ear. This had her body shuddering in ways that touched deep inside her...

“Fight me all you wish, but know this...” His mouth wrapped around her ear and he nibbled on her lobe. She gasped and released his hand, and he nibbled harder before tearing his teeth back. “I have been gentle with you thus far, but do not tempt me. I assure you that you would not like it...”

Her eyes went wide at the implication. Fear, again! But something more. She knew that she should have been petrified, but the way her heart thumped, the way her body ran hot, the way her mind fixated on his teeth nibbling her ear... his hand over her mouth... his body on hers... it was not fear that she felt, but another sensation entirely.

“This is happening.” Suddenly, he dropped his hand and stepped back. Cool and composed once more, he made sure to be looking into her eyes so that there could be no mistake. “And for your own good, Miss Gouldsmith, I suggest you come to terms with it. Better that we do this the easy way, than the hard.”

His hand reached out again, and she gasped and held her breath for she thought that hand would find its way to her waist… she hoped it might. Instead, he took hold of the door handle. He pulled it, forcing her to stumble forward, nearly tripped as he stepped through the open door.

“My mother and grandmother wish for a celebratory drink, which you will oblige them. I will give you a moment to compose yourself, however.” And then, without looking at her, he strode from the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.

As to Isabella? How to even describe what she was feeling.

Fury, for she did not wish to marry.

Frustration, for she knew it was all her fault.

Desperation, as there was nothing that she could do.

And... something else. She told herself it was anger. She tried to convince herself it was hate and loathing for the man she was set to wed. But the way her thighs trembled... where her mind sat... her heart beating at the mere memory of what had just happened. Even Isabella was not such a fool to misunderstand what those sensations meant.

A shame then that she would never get the chance to explore them. I would rather die .

The Duke might have assumed that this marriage was now happening, but he did not know Isabella nearly well enough. If he had, he might have known that where Isabella was concerned, things were never that simple. And in this, she would find her salvation.