Page 45 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

He didn’t even let her finish—he turned on his heel and left.

Why was the bloody man so dense?

She walked into her chambers in a daze and climbed into bed, trying to understand how his mood could change so quickly. It almost felt as though she had dreamt the whole encounter. Ifher legs still didn’t quiver, she would have believed it was all a figment of her imagination.

A tear escaped her eye and then another till she was sobbing into her pillow.

“Damn you, Percival,” she cursed, grieving her dashed hopes.

She had hoped that, with how vulnerable she had been with him, they would at least develop some semblance of a friendship, but now she knew that wasn’t meant to be.

Anger flooded her, and she frowned, her heart heavy with grief at the hope she had felt had been dashed against the wall. She wasn’t even demanding that he love her, for the way he chose to avoid her. All she wanted was something that would benefit him too. Why couldn’t he see that?

She sighed and turned onto her other side, wondering how she could ever hope to seduce the stubborn man she had married.

Percival groaned, slapping the wall when he was sure he was far enough from Louisa’s chambers that wouldn’t hear him take out his frustration on his crumbling estate.

He made a terrible mistake by sampling his wife’s body the way he had, but she had presented herself to him, wrapped in a white nightgown that did nothing to hide her curves from his ravenouseyes. He was unable to resist the temptation, not when he had burned with lust for her since he caught her staring him down without a hint of fear all those weeks ago and when her lips had uttered those damning words.

“I do not know you well enough to have an opinion.”

“Dammit,” he cursed, slapping the wall again.

He had known that she desired him as well, or else she wouldn’t have dressed the way she had for dinner, when it was just the two of them. That accursed gown had shocked him.

He knew she was beautiful, but she had looked resplendent in that gown, and nothing had forewarned him that when she put in the effort, she could be stunning.

It was a miracle that she hadn’t been snatched by another gentleman long ago. But then again, the ton were a vain lot, so Percival wouldn’t have put it past them to relegate her to the wall because she had a scar.

He managed to get to his room but decided against trying to sleep, opting to indulge in his brother’s liquor cabinet. Michael had a fine taste for whiskey, and the sip Percival took confirmed it. He lay down on his couch by the fire, his mind wandering back to Louisa.

She would no doubt hate him now for the way he had dismissed her, but it was necessary that she did so she wouldn’t be tempted to repeat what she had done.

She looked beautiful, writhing beneath him. Her innocent response to his ministrations had aroused him painfully, and even now, the flames of desire still burned hotly in his body. And she had flushed just as beautifully everywhere. Even between her silken pale thighs.

He groaned again, picturing her softness. Her breasts were more than handfuls, made for kneading and caressing, tipped with pretty pink nipples that tasted sweeter than berries.

Her cries of pleasure would definitely haunt his waking and sleeping hours, that much he knew. The scent and taste of her were thoroughly branded on his tongue and nose.

In all his philandering years, he had never smelled something so sweet, and it was almost annoying how the one person he couldn’t have was the one his entire being craved.

When he chose to marry her, he knew he would be playing with fire, but he had thought it a small flame, not this conflagration that would consume him if he wasn’t careful.

Blood pounded painfully in his member, and if he hadn’t sworn off the act, he would have taken himself in his hands and relieved himself.

“Damn.”

He couldn’t lose himself too quickly just because his wife’s body happened to look like every man’s wet dream. He had a lot to accomplish, and he couldn’t let her consume too much of his thoughts, or else he wouldn’t get anything done.

It would be too easy to sink into her and let himself enjoy her silken heat, but at what cost?

If she got with child, could he live with himself, knowing that he would make a terrible father?

Even if she wasn’t with child, with time she would come to expect love and would start demanding more from him than he was willing to give. So, no. He would uphold their agreement and stay away from her even if it hurt her.

She would thank him eventually, but until then, he would do his best to avoid putting them in situations that would make him lose his self-control the way he had.

He sighed, as the alcohol in his system only made him less able to resist the thoughts of his beautiful wife. He was in trouble, and if he didn’t save himself soon, he would fall into a pit he wouldn’t be able to escape from.

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