Page 75 of Wedded to the Ruthless Duke

As she rounded the bag, Philip came into view though he was Philip as she had never seen him before.

He hadn’t yet noticed her appearance and just continued to punch the bag, relentlessly. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Bare chested, the toned muscles of his chest gleamed in his own sweat. His shoulders looked stronger than ever as slightly hunched, he kept lashing out, his fists curled up into tight fists.

That hair, so often messy, was truly wild now. There was a drip of sweat hanging down from one dark tendril across his forehead.

Philip had shed all semblance of the perfectly ironed and pressed appearance he so often wore. It reminded Grace of when he was alone with her, making love to her. He had that same unbidden image then, only this time there was no passion in his being. There was only fury.

It was the eyes that absorbed her focus the most. They were fixed on the punching bag, never once darting toward her.

The striking grew faster. It was as if the anger was about to explode out of him as some ugly monster if he did not deliver repeated punches to that bag. The volume of his hits grew worse to the point that Grace had to say something.

“Philip?” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her. “Philip!” she cried, much louder this time.

He jerked his head toward her, looked away, then turned back again in alarm, missing the bag completely with his latest strike.

“Why are you here?”

CHAPTER25

Philip froze, his feet solid in the ground as he faced Grace.

This was a part of himself he kept hidden, even from her, but everything was out in the open now.

His eyes raked over her. She was completely sodden, her hair damp and stuck to her cheeks and neck. The riding habit she wore stuck to her too in all the right places. It made his lower gut stir, wanting her as he seemed to always want her.

Behind her, she had dragged in muddy water. The sight of it angered him so much that he turned away, unable to say anything more.

“Why am I here?” she asked, forcing a scoffing laugh. “I do live here, Philip. We are married.”

“This is my room in the house.”

“It sounds like you were destroying it.”

“It’s my prerogative if I wish to do so.” He didn’t mean to sound so defensive or angry, but it just exploded out of him.

He had not forgotten the scandal sheet that morning, as much as he had attempted to do so. It had somehow seeped under his skin to the point he wasn’t sure which part upset him more. Was it the fact that one of the scandal sheet writers was clearly targeting Grace? Or that she was always, always in those pages?

“Philip, please,” Grace called to him.

He walked to the edge of the room and grabbed a towel, mopping the sweat from his brow and face before he turned back toward her.

She seemed to gasp at something, her eyes traveling down and back up him again. The mere sight of her looking at him in such a way was his undoing. He tossed the towel over his shoulder and marched back toward her.

In one swift motion he wrapped his hand around her damp waist and pulled her toward him. Their kiss was heated, full of the anger he had been able to contain that morning. To his relief, she kissed him back with equal feeling, her hands gripping his chest, exploring him then reaching for his shoulders.

He was imagining taking her against the wall of his sports room and forgetting that scandal sheet and replacing all thoughts with their passion instead. He could imagine the way she would cry out his name, perhaps splay her fingers across the racks on the wall as he entered her from behind.

“What is it?” she whispered, pulling back from their kiss. “Why are you so angry?”

“I didn’t say I was,” he murmured, trying to kiss her again though she avoided him, pulling back her head though her hands still gripped to his shoulders in the most tempting way.

“You can’t forget that scandal sheet, can you?”

He stiffened, no longer trying to capture her lips.

“Can you?” he asked eventually.

“I used to be able to,” she murmured. “Philip, the scandal sheet writers don’t like me. They never have. I’m not their idea of a lady.”

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