Page 22 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

“Now that you know everything you need, it’s time to get married,” Isabella intoned, pulling her up. “The Duke has waited enough for his bride.”

Louisa sincerely hoped that everything they had told her would not somehow be visible on her face. They went about their day as though they hadn’t just taught her things that should have never been spoken about before she stepped into the church.

Her uncle smiled up at her, the first she had ever seen, as she descended the stairs. Even the butler, who normally looked stoic, was wide-eyed.

She blushed and curtseyed once she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Uncle,” she greeted.

“You look lovely, girl.”

“I thank you.”

“Shall we go?” her uncle asked.

She nodded and allowed him to lead her to their carriage, her heart thudding all the way to the cathedral Percy had chosen.

When she stood at the entrance of the Cathedral, her anxiety returned. She just focused on her groom, who was standing at the altar, waiting for her.

He looked regally handsome with his gelled-back brown hair and clean-shaven face, which made his scar all the more visible. But to her, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

He was dressed in a well-tailored velvet jacket, a white shirt, and a silver vest. His wool breeches fit him snugly, accentuating his toned legs, and his boots shone from a good polish. He looked every bit the Duke, yet he seemed as nervous as she felt. Perhaps they had much more in common than she had imagined.

Putting on her brightest smile, she walked towards her future as his beautiful Duchess.

Percival had not thought it possible to be struck dumb by a woman’s beauty, but as he stood at the altar, watching that angel walk towards him, he confirmed that it was indeed possible.

She looked radiant, smiling as brightly as she did. Despite her sheer veil, he was blinded. It was hard to believe that this beautiful woman was going to be his in a few moments.

As she progressed down the aisle, the guests faded into the background, his attention solely on her, on the brightness that he wanted to pull into himself. Her skin gleamed like the most precious pearls. His hands itched to touch her, pull her into his arms, and devour her.

When she stopped beside him, he experienced a different kind of torture, the scent of flowers tempting him to pull her into his arms and breathe her in to find its source.

Throughout the ceremony, he was lost in fantasies—vivid ones where he had the liberty to ravish the beautiful Louisa.

He had barely managed to remember to give the appropriate response when it was time to repeat his vows, surprised that his voice did not betray his desire.

When they exchanged rings, he savored the opportunity to touch the perfection of her skin. He lingered a little, holding onto her hand.

His mind conjured filthy images of those slender fingers somewhere else on his body, giving him pleasure. With conscious effort, he pushed such thoughts away, since he was already semi-erect, fast on his way to developing a full erection while standing in a church no less.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said, nudging him out of his self-reflection.

Percival looked down into the face of his bride. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes flitted to his and away. She was shy. He was willing to wager that she had never been kissed.

Stepping closer to her, he tilted her face up to his, forcing her to stare into his eyes. She looked so innocent at that moment, wide-eyed, her mouth a rosebud of the softest pink. It was tempting, so tempting that he decided he was fast on his way to becoming obsessed with her lips.

Considering the desire simmering in his blood and the innocence of his bride, it was best to keep the kiss as chaste as possible. He bent his head to place a kiss on her soft cheek, but she turned her face at the last moment, and their lips collided.

That was when all hell broke loose. Her lips were soft just like he had imagined and sweet. The kiss started chaste, with him pressing his lips to hers. But the kiss soon caught fire when she kissed him back, and he licked her lips until she let him in. Groaning at her sweetness, he devoured her, completely forgetting that they had an audience.

It was the sound of the priest clearing his throat that shocked him out of his lustful haze.

He reluctantly released her, inwardly cursing himself for being a fool.

He had intended for this marriage to be one of convenience, but he had already blown it to ashes with that kiss because there was no way he was going to look at her again without thinking of the kiss and wanting to repeat it.

What would happen after he satisfied his desire?

Louisa would be left to pick up the pieces and would probably hate him for abandoning her after using her body. Even if the dark part of his mind told him to sample her sweetness and be done with it, he knew there was no way he could get enough of her after just one taste.

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