Page 33 of The Scarred Duke's Bride
Oh, Lord! Surely, they’re not all like that?
She shivered, blaming it on the draught passing through the corridor on account of the open windows in the chambers to her left and right. Never mind that the doors were closed. There was no other possible reason why she should feel cold then hot then cold again. She leaned against the wall, her knees a little weak.
Her mind went tohisknees, so muscular and strong, so different from her own. She could admit to herself that she was fascinated.
She shook her head, straightening up and staggering away from her own chambers. Deciding not to look for Isabella until she felt somewhat more composed, she made her way to the rose garden, hoping that no one else would be there. She’d missed her flowers and just wanted to spend a peaceful time with them.
She didn’t want to think about Eric or his body or anything really. Life was just too confusing at the moment.
ChapterFifteen
Eric managed not to see Freya for the rest of the day. It was not of his own choosing. It seemed that wherever he went, she was somewhere else. In any case, now that the honeymoon was over, he had a lot to catch up on.
While his steward, Mr. Green, was an exemplary man, there were some decisions only Eric could make. After his bath, he dedicated some time to reading over new contracts and checking invoices. In addition, he had to begin to craft a way to merge the Stark business empire with the Campbell one.
There were some personal properties that he currently had no right to, but there were various properties that belonged to the duchy that would come to him regardless of the outcome of this marriage. He wanted to look over those records and perhaps find time to pay a visit to the actual properties.
He was of a mind to show the Duke what a conscientious steward he would be to his legacy, and perhaps, in that way, the Duke might be convinced to let up on his insistence on an heir. Eric truly had no wish to force himself upon a woman who did not want him. The very thought was repugnant to him. While at war, he had seen many men take advantage of their position to ‘partake in the spoils of war’ as they called it.
It had always left him feeling sick to his stomach.
All he wanted was the chance to live in peace and prosperity with people who loved him. At the moment, that consisted of his brother and mother.
The bell to dinner rang, and he walked slowly out of the study, his eyes stinging from the strain of reading. He wondered if he ought to change for dinner, not really knowing how formal it might be.
He decided to make haste to the drawing room and consult his mother on the same. If it was the same for everyone else, he would rather not go through the tedium of changing clothes just to eat.
He stepped into the drawing room to find his mother in close conversation with Freya while Isabelle and William whispered together on the other side of the room. He skirted his mother and Freya and headed for his brother.
Sitting beside him on the sofa, he smiled. “What are you two munchkins up to?” he asked.
William frowned. “I am no munchkin, and Isabella will come out in two years.”
Eric raised his hands in surrender. “My mistake. But what are you whispering about so intently?”
To his surprise, it was Isabella who answered. “We are wondering how to ask Mrs. Campbell if we might have some chocolate before dinner. We’re hungry.”
Eric smiled in surprise. “Oh? Then by all means, why don’t you have some?”
Isabella huffed. “Mrs. Beecham will not let me.”
“Ah, so it is a battle of the guardians, is it?” he said gravely.
William narrowed his eyes at Eric. “Are you making a game of us?” he asked, suspicious.
“I would never!” Eric protested vigorously. “In fact, I am of the studied opinion that you ought to get as much chocolate as you want. After all, what harm would it do?”
Isabella slowly smiled at him. “I think I like you, sir. Will you ring the bell and tell the butler so?”
Eric could recognize when he’d been manipulated. He obligingly rang the bell and asked for chocolate for his cohorts from the butler. The butler bowed and left though there was a pinched expression around his mouth.
“Mrs. Beecham will give him hell,” Isabella confidedsotto voce.
“Should you be using such language, young lady?” Eric asked, smiling at her.
She shrugged. “You are a sailor are you not? They say nobody curses as much as sailors.”
Eric laughed. “That is true, but then,Iam no lady, unlike yourself.”
