Page 61 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

Rage buried the desire he had been feeling, pushing him into step with the dance.

“That was rude,” she scolded. But her words lacked heat, and she was unable to meet his eyes.

“Dance, or you’ll cause a scene.”

“More than you already have?” she asked, casting a glance around the room.

“Indeed,” he answered without remorse. “You seem to enjoy dancing.”

“I did,” she answered stubbornly, still not moving.

His ire flared, but he quickly pushed it down, not wanting to scare her even though he badly wanted to shake her.

How dare she enjoy dancing with another man? And not just any man, but a former beau.

“It isn’t right for us to be seen dancing publicly,” she tried again.

“Is it more wrong than you dancing with a former suitor?” he snapped.

Her cheeks reddened again, and he frowned at how the innocent act doused the flames of his anger.

“Percival.”

“I do not care what the ton thinks of it,” he told her firmly. “I want to dance with my wife, and I will do so. They can wag their tongues however they like.”

She bit her lip as if in quiet contemplation, and the action sent heat through his blood. Then, she nodded, taking her position as the musicians began playing the next song.

A waltz, he noted.

Percival had only ever danced the waltz when he wanted to play and seduce, and now he would be dancing it again with his wife. It was almost too fitting a punishment for her.

Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her.

He performed the first steps of the dance, his hand firm around her waist, and again she was flush against him. His hands pulled her into him as he led her into the movements, gliding across thefloor with ease. Their closeness was scandalous in every sense but he didn’t care.

He noticed the change in her as she moved. She was graceful and channeled her inner vixen well for the steps, and he wondered just who had taught her to dance like that. Her movements were fluid as she followed his leading so submissively.

He was supposed to be seducing her, but he found himself effortlessly seduced. The feel of her slim waist beneath his hands made images of her spread out beneath him as his tongue tasted her intimately flash through his mind. He groaned as intense lust shot through him, his body taut with tension and the need for release.

The dance reached its crescendo. She gave him a sultry smile, looking up at him from beneath her thick lashes, and he frowned, pulling her harder against him. If he hadn’t danced with her, she would have smiled at Lord Pemberton the same way.

“Percival,” she gasped at the way his hands gripped her.

“I will not have you smiling at any other man like this,” he warned.

“What are you doing? This is?—”

“You are mine, Louisa,” he growled. “Mine. I will not share you with any other man. Remember that.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock, the dance effectively forgotten. But before she could speak, the dance came to an end, earning them cheers and claps from the guests.

“Perc—”

He walked away from her before she could finish, angry with himself for losing control and angry with her for causing him to.

Damn. He had lost control terribly.

He felt her eyes on him as he walked away from her, but he needed to leave as quickly as he could. If he stood next to her, breathing in her heady scent, he was sure he would have done something as stupid as kissing her so soundly that all the men would know that she was irrevocably his.

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