Page 43 of The Duke's Second Bride
He narrowly avoided swearing. “That was to help you, you stubborn woman,” he said, turning away. “It was nothing but an arrangement.”
She reeled back, stung. “Yes,” she practically spat, “You only ever married me as an arrangement. You have made that particular fact incredibly clear over the short span of our marriage thus far, thank you.” She turned to leave.
“Ava, wait,” she heard him say behind her.
Despite the small thrill that went through at the sound of her name on his lips, she ignored him, continuing to cross the small courtyard.
“Have a good afternoon, husband,” she said. “I will see you at dinner.”
“Wait,” he repeated.
Before she made it to the door, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to face him.
Her heart all but stopped, skipping a beat as they came face-to-face.
CHAPTER 15
Christian knew Ava was not a particularly short woman, but he still dwarfed her easily in height, to say nothing of the breadth of his shoulders. His hand remained around her wrist as they stared at each other, both breathing heavily.
When his hand loosened, it didn’t fully leave her; instead, it pulled away just enough to reach her hand to hold, instead of her wrist. Her fingers were soft, dainty, delicate, and silky smooth as they intertwined with his.
As they stared at each other, Christian felt a maelstrom of conflicting emotions rise within him. On the one hand, her smallness and delicacy in contrast to his stature, particularly in these close quarters, made him suddenly, acutely feel as though he were in the presence of something unbelievably precious.
Here is a woman who should be cherished, he thought.
More than that, though, was the irresistible swell of lust that raged up within him. The softness of her hand conjured to mind the softness of her lips pressed against his.
Here is a woman who should be ravished, and yet she is married to a man who has sworn a thousand promises that he will not ever touch her.
Those same lips were now mere inches from his, parted slightly, pink and wet as she looked up at him with those shining hazel eyes. Her hair, swept up at the back of her head, also shone, and reminded him of how that same hair had looked tumbling down about her shoulders in her nightgown.
He wished he could see her in that nightgown again. The way her curves were so close, easily within reach to touch and pull against him, so few barriers between her skin and his. The softness of her. The heat of her.
Looking at her now, he wondered if she could feel that heat, too.
But then he remembered once again their argument on the night he had proposed. Her insistence that he must surely want something from her, and then again, the way she had clearly not believed him, showing up at his room in that flimsy linen on their wedding night. And how he, like some sort of uninhibited wild animal, had lost control and kissed her. God, he had only proven her right.
Was this all an act? Some show of obligation from her? She had been married once before, after all—and to a real cad,from everything he had heard about her former husband, and everything he knew about her former brother-in-law.
What if she was only gazing up at him with that hungry look in her eyes because she thought that was what he wanted, and felt as though she owed him for keeping her housed and fed?
No, he could never take advantage of her like that. He wouldn’t do it; he refused. He released her hand and stepped back.
“I will try to do better in … letting my son know I am proud of him,” he said stiffly. “And I will do my best to trust your … methodology. Though if you are able to find any other method than teaching him to speak to cats, it would be slightly preferable.”
Ava was clearly taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. After a moment, though, she nodded, still frazzled but doing her best to pull herself together, and gave him a small, befuddled half-smile.
“Understood, husband,” she said. “I make no promises, but I can assure you that I only want what is best for Luke, as you do. You and I are aligned in our goals in that way. We both sincerely just want him to be happy and healthy and well.”
He nodded. “Yes,” he agreed. “Of course. And that is the only purpose of this marriage. Though let me remind you that, whatever our personal disagreements,” he added, “you are my wife, and have all the protections that come with that. You neednever fear speaking your mind—fear of being sent out of home. This is your land now as much as it is mine and Luke’s.”
“And Pudding’s,” she said.
He was relieved to hear that teasing feistiness re-enter her tone. While the mood was lighter, their argument more or less over, the air still crackled with tension.
“Yes,” he agreed, for no other reason than he needed the conversation to be over before he gave in to temptation. “Yes. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to … something.”
And he left, before he did something incredibly stupid, like kissing his beautiful wife for the second time.
