Page 9 of The Duke and the Temporary Bride

The Duke, fed up with the way he was being treated, took her by the arms, lifted her off her feet, and swung her about until he had her pressed against the wall. He let her go then, careful not to hurt her, but he stayed standing over her, his hulking frame cutting her off so that she could see nothing but his hideous face.

“Let us be clear,” he hissed. “This marriage is not my doing. I do not want this any more than you, but unlike you, I can see reason and understand that duty is what matters now. What we want is secondary. Is that understood?”

Selina stood frozen, terror cascading over her body. She felt like prey cornered by a ravenous predator—one wrong move would surely be the end of her.

She tried to meet his eyes in an effort to show some bravery. But she saw his scars, the fire in his gaze, and she looked away. All the while, her body trembled.

“No, no.” His hand snatched her face, and he forced her to look right at him, right into his eyes. “Do not cower, Miss Gouldsmith. I know that is not who you are.”

“I…” Her voice trembled as she looked into his eyes, as she held them, and as he held her. His hand was hooked under her chin, his grip strong as he bore down on her.

He wasterrifying.

“This is me,” he said through a clenched jaw. “And you better get used to it. We have no choice.”

“B-But we do,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper as her entire body shook with fear at the way he loomed over her. “There is no need to go through with this.”

“This marriage,” he continued, still standing over her—a boulder that she could not move, no matter how hard she tried. “Neither of us wants it, but it is done. And behaving like a child, as you are doing right now, will only worsen what is already a most embarrassing situation.”

Despite the fear, there was something else trickling down Selina’s spine that she could not fathom. The heat radiating from the Duke’s body, his breath, for she could feel its warmth on her skin, made her legs tremble and her heart race… but not in a way that had her wanting to cry or cower.

A tingling sensation began to work its way up her thighs, memories of how she had felt in his arms, the power of the man, the dominance that was his presence. She hated what was happening, but, strangely, a part of her was excited by it.

“Tonight,” he continued, still growling, even if he seemed perfectly calm, “I want you on your best behavior. My brother has already brought shame upon this family, and I will not take such behavior from my future wife. Is that understood?”

She said nothing, refusing to look at him because if she did, her heart rate would spike.

“Answer me,” he barked.

“Y-Yes.”

“Good.” Slowly, he stepped back, but she did not breathe a sigh of relief, still against the wall, still feeling utterly powerless and at his mercy. “And during our wedding—for it will happen soon—I want no surprises. We will marry, and there is nothing either of us can do to stop it.”

“Y-Yes,” she stammered again. “I understand.”

He stepped back further, exhaled, and then straightened. “This was regrettable, Miss Gouldsmith. I would ask that you do not force such an action from me again.” And then, without another word, he turned and strode back down the hallway.

Selina gasped the moment she was alone—a deep breath, for she realized that she had been holding it.

She thought to feel anger, for that was rational. She thought to feel fear, for now she saw the true nature of the beast she was set to marry. But for reasons that she could not fathom, her mind went to the sensation of helplessness and powerlessness and vulnerability she had felt just now, how utterly in the Duke’s thrall she had been. And dammit… it wasn’t nearly as bad as it should have been.

What was that?

It excited her. Far more than it would have had it been Lord Edmund, that was for sure.

Chapter Three

The wedding was a small and frightfully quick affair. Organized, acted upon, and then over with in what felt like the blink of an eye.

And by the time Selina found herself at the wedding breakfast, sitting with her sisters, the reality of her new life still felt strange and alien to her, such that it was hard to truly fathom everything that had happened these past two weeks… and what was yet to come.

“He is not as bad-looking as one might think,” Louisa noted in a way that suggested she was struggling to speak the words. She was younger than Selina by four years, and she sat on her right. “Beastly, but in a rugged way.”

“I was thinking the same,” Isabella, Louisa’s twin, said airily. She sat on Selina’s left. “From the left side, especially. And he certainly is big.”

“Do we know what caused the scars?” Diana asked. She was the youngest of the four, barely turned sixteen.

“Does it matter?” Louisa widened her eyes at her younger sister, a warning not to bring up such a touchy subject. “I do not think it does. They are hardly even noticeable. Again, from the right angle.”

---