Page 100 of The Perks of being a Duchess
Softly spoken words lulled Ambrose back to awareness. Dreamish words. Pretty words. Words spoken from the lips of his wife.
I think I might be in love with you.
Lifting an arm to wipe at his lids, it snapped against resistance. He tugged again. What the devil? His eyes shot open to glare at his arm, which was bound to something—he angled his head up—the bedpost. He tugged at his leg, already suspecting that limb, too, would find resistance.
He was bloody tied down onto a bed.
Like a bloody sexual sacrifice.
His gaze snapped down to his body. Christ’s sake, he wasn’t even naked. Where was the joy in that?
His eyes swept the chamber, landing on his wife, who sat patiently waiting for him to . . . what? Wake up? How long had she been sitting there? Or rather, how long had he been tied up? His burning limbs told him too bloody long.
“What is the meaning of this?” he snapped. Or at least he tried to. His words came out a jumbled moan.
Disbelief tore through him.
His wife had not only tied him to the bed but shoved a stocking in his mouth! And wrapped it tightly around his head. The jumbled events in his brain suddenly snapped together. Jonathan. Willow. This must be part of their plan.
As if to taunt him, his brother appeared in the doorway, a happy smile on his face.
“Good evening, brother.”
Was it evening already?Well then,good evening, you little bastard.
“Ambrose,” his wife murmured, and his gaze ventured to her. She swallowed. “We have taken these measures for your own good.”
Oh, really.
“We found Holly,” she said, rising from the chair.
I gathered as much.
“And she is getting married to Warton tomorrow morning.”
Ah, Warton. The son of a bitch isn’t wasting his time.
“We will release you once the ceremony has concluded.”
Oh, honey, I will be released much sooner than that.
His brother shifted against the frame, crossing his arms over his chest. “Best wait until the marriage has been consummated,” Jonathan said, his grin wolfish. “Just to be sure.”
Ambrose gave an inward snort.No man made an ass of himself like Warton had over a woman he hadn’t already beddedandfallen in love with. He would have done the same, perhaps worse.
He ought to know. Just look at where love had recently landed him. Bound and gagged on a bed.
His wife nodded, drawing his attention away from his thoughts. “I suspect neither of them will leave anything up to chance.” Blue sapphires sent him an apologetic glance. “I know you must be mad at me—”
No, love.
“For conspiring against you—”
I expected that—you did not disappoint.
“But I hope you will forgive us.”
No forgiveness called for, love. Well, maybe he’d make Jonathan ask for some.
