Page 22 of The Duke and the Accidental Bride

She watched him closely, certain that he was about to snap at her. And she braced herself, half-fearful, half-excited. He might get angry, but it would pass. And when it did, he would realize how foolish this endeavor was and hopefully do what he was too cowardly to admit needed to be done.

The Duke took a deep breath and closed the door.

Then he took another, leaning back in his seat and fixing his gaze on her. It was steeled and intense and predatory. Not angry. Not filled with uncontrollable fury. But dominant and powerful and assertive in ways that had Isabella suddenly wondering if this was such a smart idea after all.

He was bigger than she had remembered. In this small carriage, he took up over half of it; a hulking figure that if he stood might just burst through the roof. Those wide shoulders. That heaving chest. Thighs so thick and arms so round, it was a wonder he was able to fit into clothes.

Double guessing herself – if only for a moment -- Isabella leaned back slightly as her heart began to race.

“I know what you are trying to do,” he said calmly, even if there was a bite to his words. “And know this, it won’t work.

“Wh -- what I am trying to do?”

“You are trying to upset me. You have this foolish notion that if you anger me or frustrate me that I might see the error of my ways and call off this wedding?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“I should let you know, that will not happen. Where indeed you might cause me to anger, the result will not be a cancellation of this wedding.”

“Is that right?”

“It will be...” He sucked through his teeth as if to force a calm. “Regrettable, to say the least. But not in ways that you might imagine.”

Her heart began to beat faster as she dared to imagine what that could possibly mean. Flashes back to the other night... memories of what he had done.

Is that what he means? Surely, he is not so worried about that?

“It is a good thing then that you are wrong about my intent.”

“Do not lie to me. And do not treat me like an idiot.”

His words were sharp, and they shot through Isabella in a way that struck her right to the core. She felt them low in her stomach, a pang that radiated to her thighs which now shook.

She attempted to straighten. “I am simply being myself, and if you do not like that about me, there is nothing I can do about it.”

“Yourself? Is that who this is?”

“Yes,” she said with little conviction. “This is who I am. Is that a problem?”

“It will be, if you continue to behave like this.”

“I am not behaving like anything,” she said. “It is who I am --”

“Do not lie to me.”

“I am not!”

“You are stubborn.”

“As are you.”

“You are a foolish girl who refuses to admit when she is beaten.”

Her eyes flashed anger. “And you are a... controlling, idiotic male who thinks that the world revolves around him!”

The side of his mouth twitched. “And you have a mouth on you that you would do well to keep tamed.”

“And if I do not? What are you going to do about it.” She sat up and fixed him with a glare. Her body was growing hot. Her anger was building. And where good sense told her to back down, the other more stubborn side wanted to see what it was exactly that His Grace seemed so scared of. What this warning pertained to.

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