Page 44 of Married to a Wicked Duke
But all she could manage was a desperate moan. She heard Frederick let out an infuriating chuckle—which she promised herself she would make him pay for later—then his lips found her center and she was instantly lost in a sea of desire.
She closed her eyes, reaching behind her to dig her hands into her pillow, letting the sensations he was drawing from her carry her away; away from her anger, and from the confusion she felt at the state of their relationship.
She felt utterly at the whim of her body, unable to keep from moaning loudly; unable to keep her hands from digging into Frederick’s hair, keeping him in place as his tongue worked against her, taking her quickly toward that elusive peak.
When her climax erupted inside her, she heard herself cry out her husband’s name. She was distantly aware of him kissing his way gently up her body; over her hips, over her breasts, over her throat. He pressed his lips gently against the edge of her mouth, but when she reached for him, trying to pull him closer, he slipped away, widening the distance between them.
When her breath began to slow, Veronica sat up. Now her pleasure had begun to dissipate, she felt painfully exposed, and she tugged her skirts down hurriedly to cover herself. She half expected Frederick to be on his way out of the room already—no doubt preparing a speech on how this was all a mistake and meant nothing—but he stayed sitting on the bed beside her. As though it had a mind of its own, his hand reached out for her, tracing a soft line over her index finger.
Veronica pulled away. She had not forgotten those dreadful things he had said. Never mind that he had made her feel likethat. He had called her an outsider, of all hurtful things. Had blatantly admitted he did not want her as his wife.
Veronica stood up from the bed and glared at him. Her cheeks were blazing with a heady mix of anger and embarrassment. It was hard to maintain her outrage, she knew well when she had just capitulated to him as she had. Could she really continue to berate him, when they had just been so impossibly intimate? Even in her wildest of thoughts, Veronica had never imagined a man kissing herthere.And she had certainly never imagined it might feel so damn good.
“You are still angry,” said Frederick.
“Of course I am!” Veronica cried. “Did you think you could just… just, dothat… and everything could be all right?” Impossibly, her cheeks reddened even further.
A faint smile flickered in the corner of Frederick’s lips. “Well. I was rather hoping it might make it up to you a little. You did seem to rather enjoy it.”
Veronica let out her breath, hardly able to believe his arrogance. “How dare you?” she spluttered, wide-eyed.
Frederick got to his feet and closed the distance between them. He reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. The gesture caught Veronica offguard and she felt her anger waver.
“I am sorry,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I truly am. When I saw you in my mother’s apron, it just… It made me angry. But I was angry at myself more than you. I should not have taken it out on you the way I did.”
“Angry at yourself?” Veronica repeated. “Why?”
Frederick sighed. His thumb traced a faint line over her finger. “Because I was not able to protect my mother,” he murmured. “I ought to have done more to help her. To save her.” His voice wavered slightly.
Veronica frowned. “Save her? From what?”
Frederick shook his head, and that closed-off expression fell over his face again. “Never mind. I ought never to have raised it.” He pulled his hand from hers, as though he had suddenly remembered it was there. “But my grandmother was right,” he said. “Mother would have liked the apron to be used. I would like you to keep it.”
Veronica gave him a slight smile. “Thank you.”
“But I must ask you not to go into her studio again,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just… prefer it that way. I am afraid I cannot explain more than that.”
She nodded acceptingly. “As you wish.”
“I am sorry for what I said,” Frederick told her, clasping his hands together, as though to keep himself from reaching for her again. “I would hate for you to think of yourself as an outsider. That is not…” He cleared his throat. “That is not how I think of you at all. I should never have said something so thoughtless.”
“But you still did not wish for me as your wife,” Veronica said, unwilling to let the hurtful comment slide.
“No more than you wished to take me as your husband,” said Frederick pointedly.
Veronica gave him a half-smile. “Yes, I suppose that is true.”
He raised his eyebrows, a smile flickering in the corner of his lips. “Yousupposethat is true?”
Veronica tried to smooth her skirts, which were now impossibly creased. “Well, of course, I did not wish for such a grumpy husband.”
Frederick took a step towards her, his gray eyes glittering mischievously. “Well, lucky for you, I may be grumpy, but I am also exceptionally good at pleasuring a woman.”
Veronica’s eyes widened, hardly daring to believe his boldness. His words caused a fresh tug of desire, but she kept her gaze level, refusing to let him see it. “I want to teach,” she blurted.
Frederick blinked, clearly caught off guard by the abrupt change of subject. “What?”
“At the orphan school,” said Veronica. “I want to teach art.” She began to pace, unable to look him in the eye now she had spoken of something so close to her heart. “Your grandmother told me how your mother always wanted to give back to the world,” she said. “She recognized how privileged she was, and she wished to help those less fortunate than her, just as you are doing with the school.” She dared a glance at Frederick, fearful her mention of his mother may send him into another wild rage, but he was just nodding along slowly.
