Page 31 of Unraveled By the Duke
Suddenly, Lavinia dropped to her knees before him and wrapped her hands around his calves. She licked her lips anxiously, looking up at him from a position of vulnerability.
“I ask that you do not share this with her. I know things about her. Or at least suspect them. I have a favor to ask. It is one I should not, but I believe I have the right. As recompense.”
“Get up, for God’s sake!” Alexander snarled, unable to stand the performance she was putting on.
It left his heart cold and certainly did not stir his loins.
If that was her objective, she has failed. And damn her for thinking I could be swayed so easily.
“Name what you want. Name it and have done.”
“Do not consummate your marriage. Not today, and not until I can prove my suspicions. I will not share them until I am sure, and I will not subject Celia to the whims of gossip. I know how that feels, and I would not wish it upon another.”
Alexander felt a surge of anger. He could not bring himself to fully trust Celia, not yet. But equally, he could not see her as an arch manipulator or an adversary. When her beautiful face flashed through his mind—which it did frequently—he felt warmth and desire.
Those were feelings of betrayal, feelings that undermined his strength as certainly as the roots of a tree would eventually weaken the foundation of a wall.
She need not know that I have no intention of consummating the marriage. How could I, when it has been forced on Celia and me by circumstance?
That thought made his stomach clench with dread. For with the determination that the marriage would not be consummated came the conclusion that one day, when the scandal had died down, the marriage would be quietly annulled.
The notion of walking away from Celia, never seeing her again, never being able to touch her… it was unpleasant, to say the least.
“For what we once were, I have given you this audience. It will not happen again. You will keep my wife’s name off your lips and your suspicions to yourself,” he hissed.
Lavinia blinked, as though she had not expected her ploy to fail. She stepped closer, as though she would try for a kiss.
Alexander put up a hand. “Do not try my patience or test my honor. You will find the latter more than a match for your obvious attempts at seduction. Your view of me—or perhaps men, in general—must be low, indeed.”
She stepped back and turned away, but not before Alexander saw the flare of her nostrils and the dangerous light in her eyes.
“I do not allow myself to be spoken to thus, as a rule. I am bending that rule because it is you and?—”
“Do not. Treat me as rigidly as you would anyone else. I will do the same. Is our business concluded?”
Now, there was open anger on her face. The fury of a scorned woman. Alexander faced her down, unable to imagine the same disfigurement on Celia’s face.
“You will live to regret this day, Your Grace.”
Lavinia curtsied deeply and left the room.
CHAPTER 10
Celia lay beside a mere in long, fragrant grass. Trees circled the lake, sighing in the night breeze. Alexander stood over her. He wore shirtsleeves and breeches, barefoot in the long grass. She caught her breath as she felt him kneel beside her and tear the flimsy nightdress that was her only protection against the cool night air.
The garment fell from her shoulders to her elbows. Then, he tore it further, the sound of its destruction loud in the quiet night. Celia squeaked as the tear reached her buttocks, exposing them to the moonlight. Then, it was gone, pulled away from her and cast aside violently.
Alexander mounted her, turning her onto her front as though they were animals. She felt his legs straddle her hips, his manhood pressing against her derriere. His body flattened against hers, his lips fastening on her neck. His hips moved, pressing down, grinding her womanhood against the ground.
He sucked on her neck harder, and she knew a mark would be left behind. She felt pride in it. It was a mark of ownership, and she was proud to be his toy.
She moaned in anticipation, knowing what came next in this primitive dance. She held her breath, waiting.
Celia woke up but did not understand why. Befuddled, she stared at the patterns of moonlight on the ceiling of her bedroom.
This is not my room. Not Banfield. Where…?
Then, she remembered her situation. Her loneliness.
