Page 28 of Her Seven Nights with the Duke

He held back a scoff. His mother never pleaded for anything. She only commanded and glowered until she got what she wanted, not that he had ever denied her much, save for the idea of finding himself a wife.

“Don’t be like what?” he asked her. He leaned in close, his voice low, for her ears only. “I have warned you before, Mother. Do not do such things. I have told you before that I have absolutely no interest in this marriage scheme that you are plotting. I will be as respectful as possible to not embarrass your guest, so I suggest that you do not push me further.”

He’d kept his tone low and his face blank for her benefit, so that he did not embarrass her in front of her guest.

She nodded, her eyes widening slightly.

He nodded courteously at Lady Marina, who blushed, unable to look up at him, much like she had done earlier.

Samuel exited the room, his mood slightly ruined. He went out to the carriage that had been brought around for him and climbed in, a bitter taste in his mouth. There was nothing more annoying than how his mother had been trying to match him with someone lately just to see him married.

While he had no intention of ever marrying, Samuel would’ve tried to oblige her if she’d ever tried to be a mother to him back then or even sought to be cordial with him now that he was older. Instead, the only time she ever sought to speak with him was in times like this.

His mind flashed back to a younger him, desperate for his mother. Samuel’s abusive father was often in no rush to spare the rod, even on days when he’d done nothing wrong to deserve such wrath from the man who should’ve protected him.

Samuel walked up to his mother’s art room, holding back a wince from the pain that shot through him with every step he took. He would not be able to sit down for some time, and he would only be able to lie on his stomach, otherwise his wounds would blister and peel.

He could still remember the last time he’d gone to bed after a beating and hadn’t taken care to protect his hurting back from the sheets. He’d had to endure even more pain than he felt from the beating he received from his father.

He raised a hand to knock on the open door of his mother’s art room, navigating through the various paintings and statues that she’d collected over the years. She never allowed him into the room, but he needed her and would take the risk. Moreover, now that he was already hurt, perhaps she would be more lenient.

She looked at him, her eyes scanning his form as he leaned over, a hand to his side. “Has your father acted up again?”

He nodded, swallowing as his eyes filled with tears. He closed his eyes to hold them back. She’d never cared for his tears and would only tell him to be a man or cry in the privacy of his quarters, where there would be no one to see him and consider him weak.

Her eyes went above his head just as he felt a presence behind him. His father towered over him, a blank stare on his face and his thin lips set into a straight line.

“Don’t you think you’re being too hard on the boy?” she asked, her expression not showing concern for him.

“You will not tell me how to raise my son,” the Duke growled, his hands clamping down on Samuel’s shoulder. “Come along, Samuel.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” the Duchess said, returning her gaze to her painting.

It was the last time the Duchess ever questioned the Duke when it came to how to raise Samuel. He’d been beaten by his father again in the evening for running to his mother for help instead of seeing what he had done wrong and making sure it never happened again.

“You’ll never be a man if you hide behind your mother’s skirt when you feel wronged,” his father had screamed at him as he brought the whip down on his back.

Despite his father’s words, Samuel had constantly sought solace with his mother after that day, but she’d completely distanced herself from him, often acting aloof whenever he went to her, her eyes just as cold as his father’s, except she never beat him.

His family had been dysfunctional even before he was born, but he’d always assumed it was normal. They rarely spent time together, especially since his mother was often never home and was usually sequestered away with her art on the days that she was.

His father, on the other hand, only sought him out when he thought he needed a lesson on being a duke or when Samuel had done something wrong to offend him.

Samuel frowned, rubbing his hands together as he shook off the memory. He always kept them locked away because whenever he remembered them, they always dampened his mood.

He never went out of his way to be mean to his mother. That wasn’t his intention in there. However, she made it very difficult for him. She had never been particularly affectionate to him, and watching her act this way now, feigning a relationship they did not have made it even more difficult for him to come to terms with it.

Samuel rapped at the carriage door and closed his eyes as he left the estate. He couldn’t wait to be away from there so he could clear his head of the negative emotions he felt.

CHAPTER NINE

Nora lay on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling while her mind drifted back to her last night with Samuel. She covered her face with her hands, hiding the blush on her cheeks, although there wasn’t anyone there to witness it but her.

She was unable to stop thinking about Samuel’s hands on her as he expertly caressed her body. She had dreamed of him that night, feeling and grazing before he planted his lips on hers in a bruising kiss. He’d pulled away and declared his desire for her.

“Oh God,” she groaned, pulling her sheets up to her chest as she blushed once more.

“Can I really let him have me like that?” she asked no one in particular.

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