Page 51 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

All I want is for us to be alone.

“Philip?” she whispered sharply, her gaze equally tart as she glared at him. Her chest rose and fell with each deep breath she took, making the cleavage straining against her wedding gown all the more noticeable. He practically growled at the sight of her, watching as those honeyed eyes widened. “Have you lost the power of speech?”

He reached for her hand and tried to tow her away. She firmly stayed put, refusing to go anywhere with him. He stiffened, looking back at her.

Her cheeks were pink, her eyes narrowed.

“You have not said a word to me all day, and now, you expect me to follow you like a lost little lamb? I am not that weak, Philip.”

When she said his name, he lost all patience. It reminded him of the way she had arched her back on his desk, crying out his name in pleasure as he had helped her to reach her climax.

“It has nothing to do with weakness,” he hissed. “Everything to do with impatience.”

She raised her eyebrows, but he had no intention of talking anymore. He glanced back, ensuring that all of his staff were completely absorbed with cleaning up and would not look out the door at him. Seeing they were all indeed distracted, he bent down.

“What are you doing — Philip!” she hissed in a manic whisper as he threw her over his shoulder.

CHAPTER17

“Philip!” Grace kept saying his name, pulling on the back of his jacket as he marched off with her though it seemed to do little good. From this odd angle with his shoulder pressed into her stomach, she was carried away from the ballroom and toward the stairs. “Well, this is dignified,” she muttered in a whisper.

Still, he did not answer her.

“It’s not the way every wife goes to their wedding night, I imagine.”

“It’s the fastest way to get you to a chamber without another argument between us,” he said, wrapping his arm firmly around the crook of her knees as he climbed the stairs.

The heat of his words shot through her, as if he had touched her with fire. She clutched tightly now onto the back of his jacket, no longer fighting or squirming as he reached the top of the stairs.

She heard behind her the click of a door as he stopped walking then the scenery around her changed as he walked into a bedchamber. The purposeful step, the silence, all of it built to a tension that was both riveting and suspenseful.

Do I want this? Should I do as Tabitha said and refuse him?

Grace’s fingers released the back of his jacket as she considered the idea. If she refused to consummate the marriage, then one day, she could, in theory, obtain an annulment. There was just one objection to this possibility.

I am not sure I can refuse him.

“Philip — ah!” She yelped in surprise as she was suddenly flung back again. She landed on something soft and cushioning. She rose up on her elbows, looking around at where he had brought her.

It had to be his chamber. The dark and rich mahogany wood everywhere, coupled with the accents of bright white curtains on the four-poster bed and white cushions, suggested a masculine chamber. Even the chaise-longue she had been thrown on was of a more masculine taste.

All around the room, everything was neat and tidy. Every ornament had its place, and the toilette box was neat on a dressing table nearby. It was a stark contrast to her own chamber where she usually left everything just a little messy.

Philip stood before her. The sound of him tearing his tailcoat off drew her focus back toward him. He was staring at her with such heat, it was as if the last few hours hadn’t passed at all, as though he hadn’t been ignoring her all day.

“You expect me to do this now?” she hissed, moving back on the chaise longue away from him. He stalled when he saw her movements, folding his arms.

“Refusing me, wife?” he asked, his lips lifting into something of a seductive smile. It made her gut flutter, as if thousands of butterflies hid within her stomach.

“You have ignored me all day,” she countered furiously, climbing off the chaise longue on the other side and moving to stand. “It’s as if I have not existed, let alone existed as your wife.”

“Was what happened in the study not enough to give you a taste of tonight?” He shook his head, seeming amused by the idea. “Hmm, I thought it would be enough of a promise.”

“You have not said a word to me throughout the celebrations!” she said wildly. She walked around the chaise longue, intent on escaping him, when her usual clumsiness got in her own way. She tripped on the leg of the chaise longue and ended up flying forward, but an arm caught her firmly around the waist.

Flung around, Grace was back in Philip’s arms. He’d saved her from falling, only to pull her against him once again.

“And what would I have said?” he hissed. “That I was impatient for a wedding night?” His eyes grew hooded. “You know I’m a man of propriety. I didn’t fancy the scandal sheets tomorrow being full of the fact that I could not keep my eyes off my new wife.”

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