Page 50 of The Duke and the Unwanted Bride

“You have done enough,” he said acidly, still refusing to turn around and acknowledge her.

Hannah felt her world crashing down around her. All her hard work these past two days gone in an instant because of something that was not her doing. Yet, what could she even do? Nothing, it seemed. But if she walked out that door, she felt like that would be it—giving up, admitting that this marriage was as flimsy as it had seemed at first.

She half made to stand up and leave, only…

“No.” She stood up anyway, but she did not leave.

“Excuse me?” Frederick turned around, looking at her as if he had not understood. “What did you say?”

For all her attempts to seduce her husband, Hannah had forgotten what had brought them together in the first place. Their original attraction. That original fire that exploded when they were together. Born from bickering and arguing and a supposed dislike toward one another. Brewed in the cauldron of temperamental passion that had been lost these last few days.

If Hannah wished to seduce her husband once and for all, she knew now there was one sure-fire way to do it. This right here was nothing if not perfect.

“I said no, I am not leaving.” She crossed her arms under the blanket but raised an eyebrow at him, making sure he could see that she wasn’t about to back down. “And honestly, Frederick, if you think that I am going to just accept this disgusting treatment, then you have another thing coming.”

“Hannah…” He bared his teeth. “Now is not the time for this.”

“Oh, I am sorry. Is my unwillingness to be talked down to inconvenient? Heavens, how awful that must be for you.”

“You will remember that this is my home that you are?—”

“Ourhome,” she hissed. “This isourhome. Not yours. We are married. Or have you forgotten?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I am in a mood right now, Hannah—tread lightly.”

“Or what?” she scoffed. “What will you do?”

“Do not test me.”

“Ha! It has occurred to me that all you are, Frederick, is hot air and bluster. A child throwing a tantrum. You do not get your way, so you kick and scream until somebody yields to your demands. Well, I am not somebody.”

“That is not…” The corner of his mouth twitched again, and she could see he was trying to hold back. “You should be grateful that all you have to face is my so-called kicking and screaming.”

“And to blame me?” she continued hotly. “When you were the one who forced my father to accept this marriage. You were the one who orchestrated this entire thing. One would think that bynow, you would learn a little humility. That you would accept fault when it falls at your feet.”

“My fault? You were the one who?—”

“Asked you to leave the room as soon as I saw you. But you, the ego on your shoulders, refused! You were the one who made certain that we were caught the way we were. So, before you blameme, perhaps it is yourself whom you should focus on. But oh, wait, that would require you to accept blame for a damn change! And we cannot have that.”

“Careful, Hannah…”

She laughed. “Again, empty threats!”

They stood perhaps five feet apart. Frederick was only half-turned away from her, as if not facing her was a means to keep his wrath in check. But she could see him stirring, his body shaking. Each jibe, each barb she hurled at him slowly pierced through his ice-cold façade, exposing the raw emotions beneath.

She made sure to fix him with a scathing glare, standing, not backing down, willing him to explode as she knew he wanted to. What would happen from there, she was not sure. But her heart raced with the thrill of it, a sense that if it was to come to such a thing, she might not mind so much.

“They will not be empty for long.”

“And if you throw me out, what then? You have already said you refuse to rise to my aunt’s bait, so what? Bury your head in the sand and hope that your name saves you? I know you will not fight, for the fight left you a long time ago.”

“Careful…”

His growl reverberated through the room—Hannah felt it in her chest. She half-stumbled, her body quivering from it.

Her husband was a big man. A giant in this small room. He turned further to face her, bearing down on her in a way she liked more than she would admit. She forced herself to straighten up and glared at him.

“Or what?”

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