Page 64 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“Where have you been?” Henry barked.

She blinked at the sight of him. “Oh, you’re here?”

“I asked you a question.”

“I’ve been out. Clearly.” She stepped down from the carriage and made to walk right past him. “Is supper ready? I am famished?—”

“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabbed her by the arm, careful not to be too rough, as he did not want to hurt her. Firm, instead. A reminder of her place. “I asked you a question.”

“I heard you.”

“And?”

She thought on that a moment, eyes flicking to the hand around her arm as a sly smile touched her lips. “I’m afraid that you’ve just broken one of your own rules.”

“What do you mean?”

“Asking me about my business.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Remember?”

Such was Henry’s shock that he released Charlotte’s arm. She smiled to herself and turned back around, heading inside without so much as a glance.

Henry felt his stomach sink because things were worse than he thought. Or perhaps just as bad. She wasn’t angry with him, that was clear. Rather, and now he was certain of it, she was simply bored. Done with him. Disinterested because… he had no idea. Something he had done? Something he had said? Or was this just a natural progression of their marriage?

No. He couldn’t believe that. He refused. Charlotte thought she was over him? She hadn’t even gotten a taste of him yet. Until now, he’d been reserved in the way he had treated her when he’d taken her to bed. He’d held back because he had worried what might happen if he allowed himself to give in entirely. Now, it seemed, he had no choice.

But before they got to that, he needed to make her angry first.

Henry stormed into the castle after her, throwing open the door with a kick. “Don’t you walk away from me!” he shouted after her.

She was halfway across the foyer but froze when she heard his thundering voice. Slowly, she turned, head tilted, her look half confusion, half amusement. “What did you say?”

“I asked you where you have been.” Henry stormed toward her, scowl fixed, teeth bared. “And you will tell me. Or you will wish that you had.” He stopped an inch away from her, so close that if he puffed out his chest, he might knock her over.

She didn’t so much as budge, meeting his scowl with a determined glare. “Do you really want to do this now?”

“I want answers! I want you to treat me with some damn respect, woman.”

That did it. She might have been feigning disinterest, but he could see the fire ignite behind her eyes. A twitching of her lip. A clenching of her jaw. She was holding back, forcing herself not to take the bait. But in the face of his temper, that spark igniting between them as it so often did, she was finding it all but impossible.

“Not. Here,” she bit out.

“What?” He loomed over her.

Her eyes flicked across the foyer, in the direction of the dining room. “Not. Here,” she said again, emphasizing the words, their meaning. She raised her eyebrows at him and bared her teeth.

“My room. Now.”

“Ourroom,” she emphasized.

He opened his mouth to snarl, but she spun around and stormed off like a whirlwind, up the steps and around the corner before he had a chance to even blink.

Henry couldn’t help but smile to himself. Elation flooding him. Arousal taking hold. He’d done it, he knew. He’d gotten her to react. And now, he was going to reap the benefits. Or so he thought…

Charlotte was waiting for him when he stormed into their room. She stood in the middle of the room, arms folded, face set. “What’s the matter with you?” she snapped the moment his feet hit the carpet.

“What? Me? What’s the matter with?—”

“In front of my mother? My sisters? You’ve spent all week complaining about the way my parents fight, but you’re just as bad.”

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