Page 20 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“I will show you our suite.”

The interior of the house was beautiful, spacious, and elegant, its walls and corners decorated with colorful paintings and striking statues. Catherine had little time to observe them on this first journey through her new home but made a mental note to examine them later. Their private rooms were on the first floor of the east wing after ascending the grand marble staircase.

“Here is your suite,” Hugh said, opening a door and walking inside to reveal a large bedroom, washroom, and dressing room, as well as a sizable sitting room with a view of the gardens. “You may furnish your rooms as you wish. The door over there leads to my rooms.”

Catherine’s bedroom alone was double the size of her old room at Sedgehall Manor, and she was slightly dazzled by the scale and luxury of her new accommodations. But the Duke’s comment about how her rooms adjoined his brought her back down to earth and reminded her that the most nerve-wracking part of the day was likely still to come. She needed to know what to expect.

“Will you be joining me tonight?” Catherine asked immediately, and Hugh stopped on his way out. “Or do you expect me to come to your bedroom?”

After a pause and a visible intake of breath, Hugh turned around to face her. “I will not be joining you tonight,” he said. “I will sleep alone. I hope that you will rest well and then take your time settling into Redbridge Hall.”

What did that even mean? Catherine felt almost as alarmed at this strange news as if he had ordered her into his bed that very minute.

“But you need an heir,” she blurted out. “Isn’t that why you married me?”

Hugh frowned as though struggling to understand her. “I do not need an heir this very night. In fact, I will not be joining you in bed unless you invite me. You may do as you please in your new home, within the bounds of the law and as long as it does not disturb my routine.”

His words made no more sense to her than hers apparently made to him. Catherine felt a kind of panic rising within her as she sought some explanation for his attitude. She simply could not understand.

“Is that a way of telling me that you prefer the company of ladies other than your wife? I am aware that this is how many men conduct their marriages.”

“That might be how some other men conduct their marriages, but I want no women other than my wife in my bed,” the Duke said tersely, distinctly unimpressed by her unwarranted accusation. “I would never have married you if I wanted to bed other women, Catherine.”

“But if you say that you don’t want to sleep with me, then you must mean that—”

“Catherine,” Hugh said firmly, interrupting her. “I meant exactly what I said, nothing more and nothing less. Believe that if you believe nothing else.”

“But I know that men cannot control their lust, their urges,” she argued, unsure now even where these words were coming from. “There will be other women if…”

She paused as Hugh stalked across the room and stopped in front of her, mere inches between them, his face dark and implacable. “If I were unable to control my urges, Catherine, I would have ripped your dress off your body and ravished you the moment you stepped foot on the estate. Do you really believe that thought has not crossed my mind a thousand times since the day I met you? If I were merely an animal, I would have taken you at the altar.”

Catherine felt her mouth run dry at this revelation and found herself unable to speak. She should be appalled at his admission, surely, but instead, it thrilled her. Her reactions were just as terrifying as Hugh’s words, and the proximity of his body only amplified the sensations.

She could smell the clean scent of his skin, something essentially male overlaid with a hint of woody cologne. Inhaling it made her shiver, and if his blue eyes had not been so compelling, she would have closed her own to escape the sight of him. Instead, she felt ensnared by his gaze and was unable to look away.

“Should I do it now?” he asked, his voice much quieter but still somewhat fierce. “I can see that what I say excites you, but are you ready for me?”

Catherine tried to speak but only mustered a breathless sound of confusion, her heart racing madly as his strong arms came around her and his eyes studied her face with a pained tenderness.

A moment later, he brushed his lips against hers for the first time. She heard herself moan aloud before he brushed his lips against hers again more firmly. As one of his hands tangled in her hair and his tongue danced lightly between her lips, Catherine was lost in the combined torrent of her strange new desire and old fears.

“Catherine,” Hugh breathed, trailing kisses across her face, down her throat, and even down the swell of her bosom.

Dazed and with her senses overwhelmed, Catherine let his strong arms hold her in place as his lips freely roamed her skin. His other hand found and cupped her breast. That was a particularly shocking sensation, triggering an irresistible urge to press against him rather than pull away, as she was sure she should have done.

“Hugh…” she managed to say, his name a plea on her lips, although she could not say whether it was a plea to stop or continue.

“You’re my wife now, Catherine. I have every right to claim your body. But I won’t until you give me your assent. Do you want me to take you now?”

Want? It was beyond want. Her entire body ached for this man. To her dismay, she did indeed want her darkly handsome husband to sweep her off her feet and carry her to his bed.

But the thought of admitting such a burning desire was unthinkable. Her husband might well have the right to claim her body, but she could not bear to give him the power of knowing how badly she wanted that. If he knew what was in her mind or heart, he could use such knowledge to hurt her far beyond any physical discomforts she might endure at his hands.

Catherine had always believed that it was only men who gained enjoyment from coupling, but instinctively, she knew now that this was untrue. The truth was somehow worse. There would be pleasure for her in this ravishment Hugh was promising—overwhelming pleasure that could only render her completely helpless…

“Tell me what you want,” Hugh urged, his lips so very soft against her ear as his hand stroked her face with seductive gentleness. “Tell me how to touch you.”

It was all too much to bear.

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