Page 21 of The Icy Duke Claims a Bride

“What I want doesn’t matter!” she blurted out desperately. “As you said, you can do what you like with my body now that I’mlegally your wife. So, just do it. It makes no difference how I feel about it, does it? Why pretend that you care?”

Hugh let go of her abruptly and stepped back, appalled. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“You’re a man. It’s how men are!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Catherine. I doubt you do yourself.”

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Trembling with emotion, Catherine walked to the large feather bed beneath the blue silk canopy and steadied herself on a wooden post. Sinking down onto the mattress, she dropped her face into her hands and willed her racing heart to slow.

CHAPTER NINE

Hugh walked deep into the woods of the Redbridge estate after his bewildering confrontation with his new wife, his unrelenting pace driven by rejection, confusion, and intense thwarted lust.

After the way Catherine had spoken to him at Sedgehall Manor, and the undeniable signs of desire in her flushed skin and her reactions to his touch, he had hoped for a slow, sweet seduction. Her initial response to his kisses had promised the same.

He knew his wife was afraid of something, but he had believed her when she said it was not him. Now, her words in the bedroom had called this back into question and had shaken him deeply.

Did Catherine really believe that she had married a monster? Was that what she truly saw when she looked at him? Only another version of the same creature that the denizens of the ton shrank from? Catherine might not be afraid of his scars, butshe assumed that they denoted some inner evil, just like all the others.

The unfairness of it all surged in Hugh’s chest. He wanted only what other men possessed and barely seemed to question—a socially acceptable marriage, a partner in life, a mother to his children. Was he going to be denied even this basic aspect of normal life?

“Why?!” he shouted loudly at the patch of sky he could see through the treetops. “Why me?”

A flurry of birds squawked and shot upwards at this unexpected commotion, ruffling the leaves and disrupting the peaceful forest further.

Hugh assumed he was too far into the woods to have disturbed any human being. If some of his gamekeepers were around, at least they were all older men accustomed to his eccentric ways and loyal to his family. In fact, he had seen no one in all the hours he walked around his estate that afternoon and evening.

It was long past dinner when Hugh returned to the house, dusty and exhausted from his lengthy hike. He found his housekeeper in her sitting room, mending some delicate lacework presumably too precious to give to the maids.

“Mrs. Kaye, I would like to take all my meals in the library until further notice. The Duchess will be served in the dining room.”

“Very good, Your Grace.” She nodded without comment or any indication of her opinion on this arrangement. “Would you like a late supper to be served for you now? Her Grace has already eaten and retired for the night.”

Hugh shook his head. “Perhaps just a slice of pie and an apple on a tray.”

“I will have them sent up to the library at once, Your Grace.”

Like his gamekeepers, Mrs. Kaye was an old hand. She had served his father at Redbridge Hall before him and accepted Hugh’s idiosyncrasy without blinking.

She slipped away to the kitchen, and Hugh took refuge in his library, locking the doors firmly and deliberately behind him.

If Catherine thought him a monster, then it was best that he kept his distance, especially since the mere thought of her still filled him with desire.

In the short term, he chose not to upset her further, nor to torment himself with her presence. But he was uncertain how they would carry on this way in the long term.

Hugh’s plan worked well enough for several days. He managed to entirely avoid his new wife during the day and at night, havingtaken care to lock all doors to his suite and keep the keys on his person.

From what he noticed, his absence was proving no hardship to Catherine. He spotted her out riding on the estate, heard her singing to herself in the music room, and had once received a note via Perkins inquiring when it would be possible for her to visit the library.

Meanwhile, a flurry of letters came and went in the hallway each day, addressed to or from the new Duchess of Redbridge. Hugh guessed that her most frequent correspondent must be Jemima, with the large, schoolgirlish handwriting and short scribbles on the envelope fitting her youthful, impulsive personality.

All in all, he saw and heard nothing to indicate that Catherine wished for his company, or thought of him at all. She might even be relieved at his absence. In contrast, Hugh found it impossible to put his new wife out of his mind.

The slightest sound from her suite at night made him imagine her in her nightgown, with her dark blonde hair tumbling down her back. The sight of her leaning forward to urge her horse into a gallop triggered an erotic fantasy of her riding him instead. He seemed to smell her perfume everywhere he went, as though she were always only a few steps ahead of him.

It drove him mad and filled his sleep with fevered dreams which he then spent his days trying to forget by taking long solitary walks, rides, and swims. Catherine’s unwarranted accusations still rankled. He certainly wanted her body and had never deniedthat fact to her or himself, but her peace was also paramount to him. His honor would be insulted by any suggestion otherwise.

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