Page 18 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

“You’re losing your touch, it seems,” Gabriel drawled as Christian returned to his seat.

The Duke of Stonewell had somehow procured a glass of whiskey despite wine being the only drink at the table.

“Where did you get that from?” Christian asked irritably.

“I asked your butler. He was most obliging. I demanded the highest quality. I do hope it’s expensive and you’re running out of it.” Christian glared at him, but Gabriel only raised his glass in a toast. “To your bride. May she make you as miserable as you seem to make her.”

“Are youtryingto be insufferable?”

“Of course. I did say I would gloat if things did not turn out in your favor.”

Christian sighed, aware of his mother’s eyes on him. He did not wish to talk to her, and he suddenly felt exhausted. The day had necessitated a great many fake smiles and endless idle chatter with acquaintances. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts and digest what had taken place.

He looked around at the assembled guests and stood up.

“Thank you all for coming,” he said as loudly as possible, as many faces turned toward him. “The hour is getting late, and my bride and I need to rest. We are grateful for your kind words this day, and I wish you a safe journey home.”

He knew many would see it as a snub, but he couldn’t pretend to be the perfect host for another second. He longed for silence and a bit of peace. Most of all, he wanted to find his bride and ask her what she meant by humiliating him in such a way.

I said this marriage would not be boring. It seems I was more right than I thought.

When the guests eventually began to disperse, Christian bid a brief farewell to Louise’s parents. Lady Northbridge gave him a stiff smile, but there was warmth in her eyes. Lord Northbridge looked ready to hit him, and Christian felt a deep sense of satisfaction at having beaten him at his own game.

As the guests began to file out, he saw Sybella leaving the room and swiftly turned around, spotting Louise trying to slip out of a rear door beside a confused-looking footman.

He crossed the room before she could do so and caught her wrist. It was humiliating enough to chase down his wife in front of the entire wedding party, and he was losing the small amount of patience he had left.

“Enough of your games—it is time I spent some time alone with my wife.”

He pulled her through the door and dragged her down the narrow corridor. It was flanked by family portraits dating back hundreds of years, and their eyes seemed to follow him as the steady sound of his footsteps echoed off the walls, followed by her protests.

“You will unhand me, Sir,” she hissed viciously, yanking back her hand to try to loosen his grip.

Christian’s fingers wrapped around her entire wrist without difficulty, and she had the strength of a kitten. She barely managed to slow him down.

He pushed her into a side room, a small parlor rarely used by him or his mother. He shut the door and turned around to find her breathing heavily. The same lock of hair had come loose, and his fingers itched to tuck it behind her ear.

“May I remind you,” she said angrily, “that I set a rule you must abide by. I do not want a child for the first year of our marriage. If you want a woman in your bed, you can take a lover and be done with it.”

She moved to slip past him, but the fragile thread of his patience snapped. Whether it was her insinuation that he was no better than the other men of his class or the suggestion that he might desire another woman, he could no longer tolerate her provocations.

He gripped her upper arms and pushed her back against the door. She let out a small gasp of shock but, to his surprise, went pliant beneath him almost instantly, her eyes fluttering shut as though overtaken by her desire.

He shuddered at the thought of how he might be with her in bed—running his fingers through her hair, watching as her body melted against his. He was hard in seconds. He wanted to rut against her and claim her right then and there, her rules be damned.

“We have been married three hours, and you have already insulted me twice, Your Grace.”

“Stop calling me that,” she spat, then closed her mouth.

He smirked down at her. “If you do me the same courtesy, I shall. I am not going to take a lover when I have awifeto take my pleasure from. I am not like all the other men of the ton who use women and disrespect their wives as quickly as they are joined with them.”

“Do you expect me to thank you for the courtesy?”

He lost the battle with himself. He ground his hips against hers, knowing she could feel his hard length between her legs when she let out a low moan.

“You can set all the rules you like,Louise.But by the end of this week, you will beg me to take you.” His hand moved slowly down her waist as he spoke, and her breath came harsh and jagged in his ears. “You’ll long for my touch. You’ll crawl and beg me to take you.” He moved his lips to her ear, grazing the shell, barely able to contain his lust. “Get ready for me, Duchess, because in seven days, I’ll come to claim what’s mine.”

He ran his tongue along the line of her jaw and groaned as she let out that addictive, little moan again. He ground his hips against hers for the final time before stepping away and putting his hand on the door handle.

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