Page 65 of The Duke and the Wrong Bride

“I will speak to you however I wish in my own home.” He stormed up to her, again putting himself right in front of her, right over her. Almost on her. “And if your mother doesn’t like it, she can leave.”

“And what if I don’t like it?”

“Then—” Henry caught his tongue as suddenly he realized that what he sensed in Charlotte wasn’t the lust-filled rage that he’d come to expect and covet. It was something else. “What?”

“What if I don’t like it?” she said again, tone softening, eyes pleading. “What if…” She looked away. “What if I want more than… than… than this?”

Henry leaned back, caught completely by surprise. “I don’t… I don’t understand what you mean.”

Charlotte sighed, her shoulders slumped. “Have you ever noticed that all we do is fight?”

Henry grinned. “I have.”

“But that’sallwe do,” she pointed out. “We never talk. We never joke. We never spend time together—just together. Simply enjoying one another’s company.”

“I beg to differ. Every time we are together, I enjoy?—”

“Not like that,” she cut him off, her tone turning desperate. “I…” She hesitated, her expression pained. “This is going to sound silly, but I saw how you were with my sister.”

“Your sister?” Henry frowned. “What does she have to do with?—”

“The two of you talking together. Joking. Laughing! I’ve never seen you laugh so much.”

“Charlotte…” His anger was gone now, as if it had never been there before. He reached out and touched her gently on the arm, meeting her eyes, needing her to see the truth behind them. “I have no desire for your sister.”

“I know that,” she said. “But the point still stands, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t even know what the point is.”

“I went and saw my father today,” she said suddenly. “That was where I was, convincing him to take my mother back.”

“Oh.” Henry blinked. “If you did that for me, you didn’t have to. I really don’t mind…” He sucked through his teeth. “Your mother can stay here for as long as she?—”

“It wasn’t for you,” she said. “It was for them. My father… he and my mother might fight, but he loves her. He truly loves her. And she loves him. And I think back to the way they are, how they have always been, and I can see it. And then I think of us and… and…” She shrunk back, averting her gaze. “Henry, do you even like me?”

That had Henry reeling. “What? How can you even ask?—”

“Do you?” She looked at him, and he could see the tears brimming in her eyes. “I think of this marriage and all we have been through. The first few weeks, the loathing. Then how pleasant we were, but bored—you were bored, don’t lie.”

“I wasn’t…”

“And I was, too,” she admitted with a sigh. “The only time we haven’t been that way is when we fight. And when we…” Her cheeks flushed, and she gave her head a shake. “I saw you and my sister,” she started again. “And I want that. I want the fighting, too. I want the fire. But I want us to like one another as well. But if it takes this”—she gestured with her hands, indicating the fight they were about to have—“for us to be able to stand one another….” The pain in her eyes was so great that Henry had to resist the urge to hold her, but only because he wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to. “What sort of marriage is that?”

Henry was rendered speechless. Truly, he had no idea what to say.

This was beyond anything he could have expected. A concept that he hadn’t even considered. She wasn’t angry with him. She wasn’t bored. It was the complete opposite of that. A total disregard for the rules they had agreed upon when this marriage had first begun because this marriage had turned into something that neither of them could have seen coming.

And while a month ago Henry couldn’t have imagined such a thing, now… as he looked at his wife, as he met her eyes and saw a look in them that went beyond pure desire and arousal, that spoke of a need for companionship and compatibility, he knew that he wanted the same.

“You think all I want to do is fight?” Henry said softly.

“Don’t you?”

He chuckled softly, reached out and took her hand. “Can I be honest with you, Charlotte? Truly, honest.”

She nodded but said nothing.

“I want more, too. I didn’t even realize that I did until—” He bit his lip, squeezing her hand. “You are the most stubborn, petulant, frustratingly strong-willed woman that I have ever met. So much that the only way I knew how to handle it was to fight with you.” He chuckled. “And the truth is, I loved it. God, how I did.”

---