Page 54 of A Bride for the Devilish Duke
She almost squeaked as he touched her bare shoulders. His gentle graze ran down her arms and the goosebumps subsided as his skin warmed hers.
“You told me we would be husband and wife in name only,” Emma said hoarsely.
“Wewillbe.”
“Then you cannot touch me.”
“Tell me to stop.”
The words caught in Emma's throat. His hands closed about her upper arms, palms pressing against her skin and fingers enclosing her delicate pale femininity. Emma could feel her pulse thundering in her throat. Most exciting of all was that she could hear his heavy breath, hear the desire in him.
Soft lips pressed against her neck and remained there. He did not kiss, merely pressed his warm lips against her skin. Emma gasped, hands reaching for her throat and then being forced to her sides. Movement against her throat, his mouth pressing harder, lips parting as though tasting her. The very idea sent Emma into paroxysms of pleasure, making her knees tremble.
His hands were about her waist and they rose, the material of her petticoat bunching as they did, rising with his fingers to expose stockinged legs.
When his touch reached the scarring on her left side, she froze.
Whirling, she slapped his hands away, stepping back towards the window. Damien looked astonished. Then his face darkenedto anger. To Emma, it was like the face of Silas Sutherland. He had also been shocked when she slapped his face. Then enraged.
Except, Damien simply sighed. “I am sorry. I have given in to my instincts once again. And after you have made your feelings clear. I can only apologize. I mean what I say when I talk about a marriage of convenience,” he started to turn away, then he stopped, “I must ask though. Is the idea of intimacy so repellent where I am concerned? What is it that makes you react so? I feel that you are attracted, and then...”
Emma’s throat worked around a reply. “I… I cannot explain,” she whispered plaintively.
Damien bridged the gap between them in two long strides and took her hands, holding them in his own and kissing them. She looked up at him and he smiled reassuringly.
“You are without question the most beautiful, exotic, and remarkable woman I have ever met,” Damien said softly.
“You are infuriating and controlling and I should hate to be married to you,” Emma replied instead.
“At times, you are just as infuriating as I suspect I am. And yet, there are moments when I think I am…” Damien faltered, clearing his throat, and looking away for a moment, “I did not ever expect to be in this position. I was prepared for this to be purely transactional when I first hosted the ball.”
Emma swallowed, her voice low. “I also did not anticipate being in this position. Not for a very long time.”
“But why?” Damien demanded with passion, caressing her face. “I cannot resist touching you. I do not know how I will hold to the agreement I have entered into with you. I will hold to my word but it will not be easy. Tell me, Emma—why would a woman like you believe she’d never marry?”
She tried to speak. The words stuck.
“Because…” Her throat tightened. “Because I am…” Her voice broke. “Debased. Deformed... Corrupted.”
Once the words tumbled out, they could not be contained.
“I was defiled. And it clings to me. Always. No matter how clean I try to be. I cannot be touched—not without feeling his hands. His stain.”
Damien immediately paled. His breath left him in a sharp exhale. His features hardened—not with judgment, but with fury.
“Who?” he asked, voice trembling, barely restrained. “…Who did this to you?”
“I shan’t ever say,” she replied, eyes glistening. “If I do, someone will seek vengeance on my behalf. And get hurt in the process.I won’t allow that. He’s taken enough from me. I won’t let him take anyone else.”
Damien’s voice dropped to something near reverence. “What happened?”
She blinked, and the tears spilled freely. “I was propositioned,” Emma whispered, “an indecent offer made to me which I refused. He didn’t care. One night, he found me alone. He forced himself on me. I fought him.” She inhaled shakily. “He… hurt me. And he left me scarred.”
The silence that followed was thick with emotion, broken only by the quiet, steady sound of her weeping.
Without a word, Damien drew her into his arms and led her gently to the chaise. He sat and held her close, arms wrapped firmly around her, anchoring her in the storm of her pain. His embrace was tight, and Emma felt safer than at any time since her childhood. Certainly since being attacked by Silas Sutherland. Pressed against his chest, Emma wept—harder than she had in years. But for the first time since that night, she did not feel lost.
“Does anyone else know?” he asked, his voice low, almost guttural. “Your family?”
