Page 85 of The Duke and the Scarred Bride

She squeezed his hand. “At least the suspect was apprehended,” she tried. “You can finally rest and grieve properly.”

He chuckled, rubbing her wrists again. “Perhaps I should have let you hit him.”

“I might have killed him if you had,” she mumbled with a frown.

He laughed then. “I wouldn’t have let you stain your delicate hands with blood.”

“I still can’t believe such beasts exist,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “Why would anyone take someone else’s life?”

“Are you talking about me?” he asked seriously, even though his eyes were filled with mirth.

She rolled her eyes at him, shoving him away. “I would never.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

He looked thoughtful for a moment, and she wondered what he was thinking of.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, playing his game from earlier.

“You and what you said at the warehouse,” he answered honestly. “I can’t help but wonder if you were being honest or if you were just buying yourself more time.”

“I meant everything I said, Percival,” she answered. “You are so kind and thoughtful and everything a woman would want in a husband. It… It has made it so hard for me because I don’t think I can continue this marriage of convenience we agreed on. I understand that you might not feel the same way, but I have fallen in love with you, and I say it now if only to let you know, so you can make your decision. If you choose not to be with me, then I would understand…”

Her words were silenced with a kiss that said everything Percival didn’t. She couldn’t help but bury her hands in his hair, pulling him closer as he moaned into her mouth.

They pulled apart after a while, and he cupped her face in his hands.

“I love you too, Louisa.”

He kissed her again, and this time, she poured all the love she felt for him into the kiss. His hands roamed over her body and hers his, their breaths mingling as he pulled her closer.

His hands moved to her stays, and her hands tugged at his shirt, but before they could go any further, a knock sounded at the door.

“I can’t have a moment of peace in this house,” he grumbled.

She laughed and leaned close to him. “We have our whole lives ahead of us, husband.”

“But I want you now, wife.”

“Your Graces.” The knock came again. “The doctor is here.”

“Show him in, Mrs. Owens,” Louisa called, slapping Percival’s hand away, which had been inching up her thigh. “You need to get that arm checked, remember? I don’t want you to have any more scars.”

“But this is one I’m proud to wear.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She frowned. “I feel guilty enough as it is.”

“All right,” he relented. “I’ll comply.”

“If you behave, I might be a little more willing tonight.”

“You’ve become more naughty, wife.” He smiled, nipping her ear.

“Only because I have a naughty teacher.”

Percival watched the doctor examine Louisa and was grateful when he pronounced that she was not harmed. When it was time for his own examination, he ignored the doctor’s wide-eyed stare at the scars crossing his chest.

He coughed to break the man’s stare and urged him to look at the cut on his arm.

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