Page 13 of His Abandoned Duchess

Within the dark of his bedroom, Richard’s mind ignited with terrible purpose. He strode forward, snagging his cravat from where he’d draped it over a chair and wound the fabric around his fist. He had never been so possessed by the need for such actions. The wild notion of it still struck him, but his logical mind was no match for the fury consuming his blood and soul.

The fabric tightly gripped in his hand, Richard marched back down the hall toward Amelia’s room, sure it would be the final time he found her there this evening.

His steps had been far from quiet, and still, when he threw open the door, Richard found his wife lying in the bed, attempting to deceive him into believing she’d somehow fallen asleep.

You shall think twice before testing Amelia again, little minx.

Seizing Amelia up from the mattress, Richard hauled her close, dropping the loose end of the cravat to hang from his hand.

“What are you?—”

“If you are incapable of silencing yourself, perhaps an external aid is a necessity.”

Her eyes wide, his wife stared up at him with an expression of such bewilderment, dumbfounded enough to make no move to dislodge herself from his embrace.

A fascinating surge of stimulation rushed through him. Richard hoisted up the cravat, securing it around Amelia’s mouth with an odd rapture at seeing her so trussed up for him. Securing the fabric with a sturdy knot at the back of her head, Richard smirked down at her as Amelia’s brows knitted together, her irascibility more than evident.

“There now,” Richard crooned, “you have your aid. The household will be most grateful for the end to your gratuitous carrying on.”

Richard held her tight to his chest. Yet, the half-hearted thrashing she performed next to him ignited a blaze within the deep recesses of his being, stirring the repressed facets of himself that he kept securely locked away.

A palpable tension in the air pressed down on him, and Richard found himself holding onto the gold-flecked umber of her irises.There was so much to the pattern of striations in Amelia’s eyes that he had yet to notice previously. Unconsciously, he smoothed away a thick, twirling lock of hair, securing the curl behind her ear.

Amelia’s glare wavered, and she shook her shoulders; her quickened breaths felt in his own chest.

How had he not seen the graceful lines of her strong jaw before? Were the indomitable fires glowing behind her stare forever a part of his wife’s form? It seemed impossible that Richard had stood before Amelia on their wedding day and overlooked the exquisite, statuesque creation that was this formidable woman.

Flush colored Amelia’s soft skin, rising in her cheeks, and Richard studied the intricacies of her features, mapping them in his mind as an explorer might a foreign land.

“Ugh,” she grunted through the material of his cravat, just getting an arm free and reaching for the tie tangled in her hair.

Richard snagged her wrist, pinning it behind her back in a flash of movement that made Amelia yelp.

“Ah, ah. Shall you attempt to remove it,” he leaned closer, separating their faces by centimeters, “I shall be forced to findanothermeans of keeping you quiet, wife.”

The rose in Amelia’s cheeks swelled all the higher, and even Richard contained a level of shock at his words. The deepermeaning was apparent to both of them, and it struck him that Richard had never spoken as such in any other moment of his thirty years on this earth.

He was bewildered beyond reason, unable to keep himself level on a choppy sea of conflicting desires. It was nearly as if he weren’t commanding the reins of his own body, an invisible driver of questionable morals wielding him like a wicked tool of seduction.

And even knowing that Richard was powerless to stop himself.

Amelia simply did something to him, something that, in their five years apart, he’d assumed would never occur. He was nothing if not a stalwart gentleman, never wishing to dally elsewhere, though he resided far from Amelia’s side. He’d frankly had no interest in such a thing, and yet, here with the woman who was technically speaking already his, Richard was devoured by the carnal need thrumming through his body.

His eyes found her lips beneath the reflective silk fabric, tracing their outline with rapt focus.

“This particular look suits you well, wife.” Richard released her wrist to drag his fingertips over Amelia’s mouth, warmth bleeding into him through the thin layer that separated them. “Evidently, a creative use of fabric had been most advantageous.”

She shuddered beneath his touch, and the motion drilled straight through him to the core of his being. Richard swelled,his body awake and alive in a terrifying, unfamiliar manner that forced him to swallow against his parched throat.

To think what she might look like…her soft, pink lips wrapped around?—

Richard pulled himself back, barely able to catch himself through the downward tumble his mind had found itself in. Only a few moments longer, and he was not sure what he might have done. Leaving Amelia to stand frozen stock still and gawking like a deer in the hunt, he fled back to his room, desperately in search of fresher air.

His skin was too hot, his pantaloons overly constrictive as his body fought to free itself of them. He was out of his damned mind, behaving like this. What had gotten into him?

But even as Richard chastised his behavior, an ember remained inside him, resilient and unextinguished by his abrupt departure from Amelia’s side. He squeezed his eyes shut, tucking himself under the covers of his bed, and set not to exit the thing until morning light drove him from it.

This was a most problematic situation and one wholly unfamiliar to the Duke. Come the morrow, he was uncertain what another interaction with Amelia might cause him to do.

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