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

Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

I sabella waited patiently in her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed, watching the closed door, feeling her nerves grow by the second.

Her heart was racing so fast that it hurt her. Her legs shook and she fidgeted with her hands in a vain attempt to dispel the energy coursing through her body. She almost stood and began to pace, but remained where she was because she did not want to create any noise that might draw attention to herself.

Ha! As if he does not know where I am. And as if he is not expecting me to be here, waiting for him like a good, obedient wife.

The wedding breakfast had finally come to a close. It had gone on for longer than Isabella had thought, dragging into the early hours of the evening so that the sun had already set. As was always the way with these things, there were a few who refused to leave when the time was appropriate, managing to convince her husband to share in a final drink or two... or three.

It was men’s business and Isabella was happy to leave them to it.

That was an hour ago now, time spent fretting as her mind fixated on what was to come. Downstairs she could hear the Duke saying goodbye to the final guests, which meant that soon he would be coming upstairs, into her room to claim what was his by right.

Over my dead body.

It was a bold statement but one that had less bite to it than Isabella liked to admit. She had seen what the Duke became when she denied and fought him, and she wondered how he might act if she was to try and escape her wifely duties. Not that I have to wonder too hard.

It sent a shudder through her. As she pictured that look in his eyes. As she remembered his warm breath on her skin. As she felt his wet lips on her and his hand around her throat...

Another shudder and this time she jumped to her feet as if to dispel it. As if to fight it.

She did not want to lie with the Duke! She did not want to put herself through that! The way her body reacted to thoughts of him were brought about by intimidation, hatred, disgust! Certainly not... not anything else, to which she did not speak because she did not understand it.

The sound of footsteps walking down the hallway snapped Isabella back into the room.

She gasped and froze where she stood, staring at the door, listening to those footsteps growing closer and closer and closer.

I will just tell him that I am tired. That is all. Surely, that will be enough to convince him to wait at least one more night...

The footsteps grew closer. They reached the door. And then... they continued, past the door and down the hallway. The sound of another door opening echoed from beyond and then shut closed as the Duke walked inside.

“Huh...”

Isabella’s shoulders sagged and her quickly beating heart slowed. She stared at the closed door in confusion, refusing to recognize the way her stomach had dropped as if from disappointment.

“Well then...” She looked about the empty room awkwardly. “I guess that settles that.” A firm nod and she turned her back on the door.

Her husband did not want to be with her tonight. As was the case with much of today, he seemed set on ignoring her. Perhaps for good. He had heard her complaints about this marriage, and he had taken to them, understanding that the two could not possibly work together. Hopefully, he would continue to behave in this manner from now until... well, forever.

Isabella forced herself to smile, still ignoring the strange way that her stomach turned, because she needed to believe that this was a good thing. She could not escape marriage but if she could escape her husband then that was the next best thing.

Although....

She looked to the closed door again. Through it. Toward her husband’s chambers. What now? Are we going to live in this house as strangers? Until one of us dies? Surely that is not his plan?

Isabella was many things but at the top of that list was stubborn. Good sense told her to leave tonight be and wait for tomorrow. Then, once the dust from today had settled, she could approach her husband and ask what he had planned for this marriage. If he did plan on avoiding her, she would like to know about it.

Yes... that was what this was. The reason she felt so strange. She simply wished for closure and nothing more.

It was this sense of closure that she chose to focus on. A need to confirm with the Duke that she was safe to sleep tonight and that he would not try anything. That she would wake tomorrow knowing what to expect. That was all she wanted.

Without even realizing that she was doing it, Isabella had already started walking toward the door. And then the door was open. A spike of fear struck at her as she looked down the empty hallway, but at the same time... a pinprick of excitement that she did not understand.

The wolf’s den sat at the end of the hall and foolishly, she was about to walk right into it.

The room was filled with steam. It hovered thickly before Isabella’s eyes and the heat had her sweating through her dress before she had even taken one step into the room.

“He -- hello?” Isabella spoke softly, confused because she had been certain this was her husband’s bedroom. “Your Grace?”

“Isabella?” his voice drifted through the steam and the darkness. “What are you doing?!” he barked.

“I...” She thought to close the door quickly and hurry back to her room. But it was too late for that now, as he would just come and see her himself. No, she was here and had no choice but to commit. “I was hoping we might talk for a moment?”

“Now?”

“Yes, now.” She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

It took a few seconds for Isabella’s eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. And when it did, she realized where she was and the utter tragedy that she had stepped into. Willingly, at that.

This wasn’t the Duke’s bedroom. It was the washroom! And there at its center, in a bath made from porcelain, sat the Duke. Up to his waist in water, the tub was too small for his hulking frame, making him appear even bigger than usual. But that was the least of Isabella’s worries.

Her eyes went wide as she registered his naked body. She could only see his chest and arms and abdomen, but it was enough to have her gaping. A hair-covered chest, thick and muscular arms, pink skin dripping with water in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant to look at...

“What is this?” the Duke demanded.

“I --” She hesitated, only just now noticing the housekeeper standing beside the tub. He had a washcloth in hand and could not have looked more nervous.

“You may go,” the Duke said to the housekeeper. “Now.”

The housekeeper let out a frightened gasp and hurried around the tub. On the way, he dared a glance at Isabella and she could have sworn she saw fear in his eyes.

“Is something the matter?” the Duke asked her the moment the door closed.

“I...” She was staring at him with her mouth hanging wide open. A shake of the head and she tore her eyes free, clearing her throat and then looking past him. “I think we need to talk.”

“And now is the best time for that, is it?”

“It is the only time,” she said as she willed some sense of confidence into her being. “Despite my objections, you and I are now married and --”

“I am glad that you noticed,” he said with a light chuckle.

She ignored it. “And I would like to know what happens next. What is...” Her eyes flicked to his body again, her pulse quickened, and she looked away. “What is to be expected of me?”

“Expected of you?” He frowned. “I am afraid that I do not quite understand your meaning.”

“As husband and wife,” she continued, speaking into the room rather than at him. “What is ah... expected.”

“You said that already.”

She breathed out her nose. “My meaning is, some couples are expected to break their fast in the morning together, and to share supper of an evening. Balls and promenades and such, also, we will be expected to attend as one. But outside of that...” She could feel herself begin to sweat as she came to her point. “I was hoping you might be able to confirm that you and I will... that there will be no... that I am not expected to...”

Say it, Isabella! What is wrong with you?

He chuckled to himself, seeming more than a little pleased at how put out she was. “You and I are far from what most would consider normal, would you not agree?”

“I would.”

“Then I would not expect normalities to concern us. As you may have noticed, I did my best to give you space today for I was certain you did not want to spend more time with me than was necessary.”

“And I thank you for that.”

“And the same will be said of our marriage. If I require that we dine together or attend any social events, I expect you to acquiesce without causing a situation.” He looked pointedly at her.

“That is fair.”

“But outside of that...” He shrugged. “I do not expect you and I to spend hours gazing into one another's eyes like lovesick puppies. Nor shall we be joined at the hip. The one thing you need to know about me is that I do not appreciate drama. We had our differences recently. My hope now is that we can move past them. Without incident.”

“That sounds perfectly agreeable.”

“Good.” He actually looked relieved. “Now, if you do not mind...” He indicated the bathtub.

Isabella very nearly breathed a sigh of relief and left. He had, after all, confirmed what she needed to know and assuming that he was being truthful, it sounded like a better set of circumstances than she could have hoped. Only, as she went to leave, she realized something.

He hadn’t answered the one question that she needed an answer to most of all! She cursed inwardly and did not leave.

“Was there something else?”

“Yes...” She swallowed awkwardly, her face turning bright red. “It is... as a husband and wife, there are expectations. Ones that I had... that I assumed... that I was assuming you would... that tonight especially, it is said that...” Her mouth began to turn dry, and embarrassment flooded her.

Worse, the Duke’s eyes flashed recognition. “Ah, I see why you are here.”

“It is not like that!”

He chuckled. “Are you sure? Duchess Fangsdale, for all your complaints about married life, one might assess this situation and be right to think that you are trying to take advantage of --”

“I am not!”

“-- your husband, naked in the bath on your wedding night.” He continued to chuckle to himself. “Is that why you’re here? Upset that I did not come to your room instead?”

She widened her eyes at him. “Relieved is the word you are looking for.”

“Is that right?” he said disbelievingly.

“I came here to make certain that you and I would never – that you had no intention of trying anything of that sort.”

“Of what sort, exactly?” he tilted his head.

“You know well what!”

“You know...” He shrugged and leaned back in the tub, putting his arms up on the sides, sticking his chest out and exposing the waters beneath which lurked his member. “As your husband, it is my right.”

“I am aware,” she said, making sure that the disgust was present.

“And it is expected that we produce an heir. Sooner, rather than later.”

“Hopefully later, if not at all.”

He looked at her from the bathtub. Amusement gone. A sense that he was trying to see through her; whether to believe her words or searching for the exaggeration in them.

“You really do hate me, don’t you?” he asked finally.

“What was the giveaway?” she responded before she could stop to think of a more tactful response.

“And there is that tongue again. I thought I warned you about that.”

Her heart began to race at the implication. Good sense told her to apologize, but that feeling inside of her that roared at the sight of his naked body would not allow it. “I have always been a slow learner.”

“Yes, you are, aren’t you.” The humor in him was gone and the look he gave her sent a shudder up her spine. “I thought I warned you about that.”

“I--” She swallowed. “I just want to know what is expected of me. You wish for me to be obedient? Then...” Her body was shaking, and her tongue felt swollen in her mouth. “Then tell me what to do.”

The Duke shut his eyes and groaned in a way that had her skin breaking out into goosebumps. Then he ran a hand through his hair and spoke without looking at her.

“I want the truth from you. Do you want me to take you to bed.”

“Wh -- what?”

“Answer me truthfully,” he growled angrily. “It is not a question I am used to asking and I won’t do so again.”

“I--” Her eyes flicked over his naked body. Her mind flashed to his hulking frame pining her down, his lips latching onto her neck, her heart racing at his touch. “I... I... I do not want that,” she stammered.

“So be it.”

Suddenly, he rose from the bathtub.

Isabella gasped at the sight. Her first inclination was to turn around and look away, but she froze to the spot, unable to control her legs... not to mention her eyes!

They swept over the Duke’s naked body. Down his bulging chest, past his muscular torso, and to his thick member which swung freely between his legs without a care. She stared at it in rapture, felt her tongue lick her lips, became aware of how she gaped at it as if she was a starving pauper being offered a meal for the first time in days.

Is it too late to take back what I said?

“We have a problem,” the Duke began as he climbed from the bathtub. “One that I am having difficulty seeing a way around.”

She could not speak. Her tongue felt swollen. Her heart blocked her throat as it tried to escape. Desperate to pull her eyes from him, they refused to budge, staring freely as he crossed the room.

“As husband and wife, we are expected to lay together,” he continued, speaking casually as if he wasn’t completely nude. “But you have made it clear that you do not wish such a thing. Do I have that right?”

“Ye -- yes,” she said for reasons she could not comprehend. “That is right.”

“Despite what you might think about me, I am not one to take a woman who does not wish to be taken.” He reached her, stopping a foot away. His eyes then searched her, working over her body slowly, and she could very well sense what was on his mind. “But I do have my limits.”

“I... I do not know what you... I --”

“Know this,” he cut her off. “So long as you do not wish it, I will not take you to my bed. I promise.” It was as if saying the words caused him pain. “In fact, until you tell me otherwise, I promise not to lay a hand on you.”

That had her snapping back into the moment. “Re -- really?”

“But for this to work, I require that you...” He sucked through his teeth, eyes straying down her body. His hand moved by his side as if he meant to grab a hold of her, but he kept it stilled. “That you do what you can not to antagonize me. You have seen what happens when you make me angry, and something tells me that you will not like what might happen if the next time I am unable to...” He took a deep breath. “Control myself.”

“I thought that you said it was my choice,” she shot back.

“It is,” he assured her. “I would never force myself on you, and I hope you know that.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “But if you do anger me, and then you do allow me to… to…” He grimaced. “It is best that we do not let such things happen. For both of our sakes.”

She knew only too well to what he was referring. Her husband was a monster of unrestrained anger and if he was given his way he would do unspeakable things to her. She had seen it in his eyes!

Yet, the Duke stood naked before her. His muscular body dripping wet. His member throbbing between his legs, growing before her eyes in ways that she had heard about. It made her own inhibitions seem incredibly frail. And it made her convictions that all she felt for the Duke was fear finally be seen for what they were. False.

A shudder ran through her body again, and she very nearly said something that she knew she would regret.

Although something tells me that I would not regret it as much as I think...

“Is that understood?” the Duke asked.

“It is,” she said with as much resolve as was possible, tearing her eyes from his body and looking over his shoulder. “Now, if there is nothing else...?”

The Duke almost looked upset. Taken aback as if he expected her to retort or argue... as if he wanted her to. And Isabella, with thoughts of the Duke’s warning ringing in her ears, her blood growing warmer by the second with thoughts of what he just might do, could not stop herself from acting.

“In fact, I do not care if there is. I am leaving.” She turned to walk away.

“Wait --” His hand snatched her arm and her body went stiff.

“Wh -- what is it?” She eyed the hand excitedly, wondering if she should fight it or let it take her. What would he want her to do?

“I...” His grip on her arm tightened. His bicep flexed as he held her. His eyes worked their way over her, and she could literally see him fighting with himself.

Again, that desire to give him what he wanted. Isabella turned so that she was facing him. She licked her lips, eyes flicking down at his member which was now stiff and erect; literally throbbing as if it might explode.

All it would take was a comment, perhaps a dismissal of him. But did she want that...

“I did not dismiss you,” he growled.

“Is that a problem?”

He grimaced and his grip tightened. His eyes flashed. She could feel the arousal taking him, the desire building, that uncontrollable force that he had spoken of threatening to take over.

It was then that Isabella decided she wanted it. All this wondering. All this denying. All this building up so that she was now shaking with anticipation! Dammit, she wanted it all.

She wanted the beast.

“I...” He stepped in closer. His naked body almost touched her. She could feel the heat coming from him and she focused on his lips which came closer and closer. “You promised that you would behave.”

“And you promised that you would control yourself,” she shot back with venom.

He groaned as his hand moved up behind her head as if he meant to snatch a handful. But he resisted doing so… barely. He licked his lips, his eyes flashed, and his eyes trained themselves on her neck like a ravage beast rearing for its first bite.

“No.” He released her suddenly and stumbled back. “You are right.”

“Wh -- what?” she gaped.

“I am the one who needs to learn control. I am...” He looked away. “I am sorry.”

She stared at him stupidly. Wanting to cry out and tell him that he was wrong. That she was wrong! Only the words would not come because she had no idea what to say.

The Duke turned around and went back to his bath, keeping his back purposefully on her. And when he climbed back in the tub, his eyes were closed, and he leaned his head back as if he was falling asleep.

“Send Jared back in when you leave, thank you,” he said as if he was speaking to the room. “That will be all.”

Isabella stumbled back, her mind unclouding with the fog of arousal, her good senses coming back to her like a wave slapping her in the face. Realizing what had just nearly happened, feeling as embarrassed as she did ashamed, she spun about, lurched for the door, and threw herself through it.

She ran for her room, all the while trying to strike what had happened in that room from her mind as if it had never occurred. She had won a great victory. The Duke would not try and seduce her. After what he had just done, he might very well try and avoid her. What could be better?

It was only once she was in her room, on her bed, heart rate slowing and breathing returning to normal, that the more obvious thought popped up and then refused to leave: in what possible way could that have been considered a victory?