Page 16 of A Cursed Bride for the Duke
The carriage wound itself around them in a protective shield, insulating them from the memories of their misfortunes and the scathing voices of the Ton. Wilhelm leaned closer, his lips one angel feather away from hers.
Genevieve’s breath left her body in short, uneven bursts. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her skin was dewy with fervor. The world around her blurred at the edges. Her heart drummed in her ears, each beat echoing louder than the last. The air in the carriage was thick and pressed against her as she fought to steady herself.
Just as he was about to close the distance between them, she raised a hand, her fingers lightly brushing against his chest.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.
A wave of dizziness hit her with the force of a tidal wave and washed over her as she realized what she was about to do and who she was with.
This Duke, with his power and secrets, was not someone she could trust and was most certainly not a man she should kiss.
Sensing her withdrawal, Wilhelm paused and looked at her quizzically. “What is wrong, Genevieve?”
“I…” Genevieve’s hesitation was a reflection of her tangled thoughts. “This is unwise,” she stuttered, shaking her head in refusal.
She had become overwhelmingly intimidated by his power and the influence granted to him by his title. He was a force she could never begin to match, let alone overcome. She was not simply a widow with a new husband by her side; she was a woman trapped by the circumstances that had shaped her life. Fate had already made the decision for her.
What choices do I have left, if any?
Their impromptu marriage and her limited future clanged like the iron door of a cage, locking her into its confines of misery and hopelessness.
“Unwise?” Wilhelm echoed in the same low whisper. He leaned closer, his voice a hushed command. “Touch me.” His gaze landed on her hand before rising to her eyes. “Genevieve.”
Genevieve’s eyes went wide, her chest tightening as the words settled into her mind. Her pulse quickened as the shock of his boldness rushed through her. Heat bloomed across her cheeks in disbelief and burgeoning desire.
What is more preposterousis that I like it.
As though possessed by a will of its own, Genevieve’s fingers slowly and hesitantly brushed against the fine fabric of his thin shirt, then moved with a growing boldness.
She felt the solid warmth of his chest beneath the layers of expensive linen, his muscles flexing beneath her touch. A jolt of electricity shot through her, the spark igniting a fire that coursed through her veins and consumed all rational thought.
But just as quickly as her eagerness had flared, reality had barged back in and doused the flame of desire.
She drew her hand back as if she were burned, her cheeks coloring with shame and excitement.
Despite his disappointment, Wilhelm respectfully leaned back into the far corner of the carriage and watched her with understanding. He settled back against the plush cushionsand stared out the window at the passing landscape in quiet acknowledgment of her confusion and inner conflict.
After a brief but respectful silence, he cleared his throat and spoke again.
“Genevieve,” he began, his voice now colder. “Let us both be clear about the terms of our arrangement.”
Genevieve straightened in her seat, blinking as she raised her eyebrows. “Terms?” she echoed.
Wilhelm nodded. “Indeed. As my wife, you will have free rein of Ravenshire. The house, the estate, the staff… all are at your disposal. You may redecorate, entertain, or simply wander the grounds. Whatever you wish.” He nodded, still looking out the window. “You are free to pursue your interests, to cultivate your friendships, and to live life as you please.”
Genevieve furrowed her brow. “But?” she prompted, sensing an unspoken condition.
Wilhelm furrowed his brow, his expression abruptly becoming a touch more enigmatic. “There are certain expectations,” he explained, his voice smooth and measured. “We shall, of course, make the necessary appearances together. Balls, dinners, social gatherings… we shall present a united front to the Ton.”
He paused, turning his head to face her, his gaze piercing. “However,” he continued, his voice hardening slightly, “you willnot question my whereabouts, my business dealings, or my… associations.”
Genevieve leaned back in her seat to put more distance between them. “I do not understand,” she admitted, her voice tight. “It sounds as though you merely desire a decorative wife—a trophy—to display to the Ton. A trophy which you can later breed.”
Indignation rose from the pit of her stomach to her head, and she raised her voice, her words sharp and penetrating.
“I,Your Grace, am not for display.”
Wilhelm’s eyes glinted.
