Page 46 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

Laurel frowned. “But I thought you told me that we would raise our children here. I don’t understand.”

“You know I need an heir. A spare would be even better. Once I have them, I told you that you would be free to—”

“To what? Take a lover?” she asked, her heart sinking but her anger rising. “Like women of thetondo? Like you will?” Bitter disappointment filled her. “I thought when you said I would have my freedom it meant I would be able to participate in things I am interested in. I would love to do charity work, especially in my former neighborhood. Work with furthering the education of the less fortunate. Help feed the hungry.”

She shook her head. “I had no idea you merely wanted me for your brood mare. While I didn’t expect you to be entirely faithful because most men aren’t, I would never bring another man to my bed. I want to be a good example to my children. To show them the difference between right and wrong. To have them be kind to others. To teach them to honor their word.”

Laurel gripped her reins. “You’ll get your heir and spare and then you’re welcome to spend all of your time in London. The children and I will be perfectly happy here at Linwood without you. Go to your other estates. Chase all the lightskirts you wish. Take on as many mistresses as you choose. We won’t need you.”

With that, she urged her horse on and raced toward the stables. She arrived and dismounted, tossing her reins to Tam, who looked puzzled. Moments later, Linfield rode up and Laurel hurried away, as fast as her skirts would let her. She rounded the stables to head toward the house, knowing she wouldn’t reach it.

As she expected, a hand seized her elbow, halting her forward motion. Her husband jerked her and she stumbled, her back pressing against the stable wall.

His other hand gripped her elbow, his body close, blocking her escape. Fury blazed in his blue eyes.

“I do want an heir,” he ground out. “I want several children. And I want to be a good father to them. The kind of father I never had.”

His eyes fell to her mouth. “I also want my wife. Only my wife. I plan to honor my marriage vows, Laurel. You are the only woman I want.”

With that, his mouth took hers roughly. The kiss was one meant to punish her. Hard. Brutal. Angry. Yet it had the opposite effect. Instead of putting her in her place, it only stirred the fire of passion inside her. Within him, as well. Her hands clutched at him, her fingers finding cloth and tightening. He jerked her to him, his mouth devouring her, his kiss deep. Through his clothes she could feel the furnace of his body as hers melted into him. They may not like each other much but the passion they felt for one another was undeniable.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers.

“I don’t know why I respond to you like this,” he muttered. “Why I get so angry.”

“I feel the same,” she replied. “No one has ever infuriated me more—and yet I want you inside me now.”

He released her elbows and cupped her face. His eyes drank her in. “It’s still daylight, Your Grace. Should we scandalize the servants and retreat to your bedchamber?”

Her mind shouted no but her body betrayed her when her lips whispered, “Yes.”

Disregarding every rule of propriety, he scooped her into his arms and strode toward the house. Flabbergasted, she remained mute as he entered the house and trotted up the stairs. They passed a maid whose jaw dropped. Laurel buried her face against her husband’s chest, muffling her laughter. She didn’t know if any other servants observed their outrageous behavior because she didn’t look up until he set her down safely within her rooms.

Linfield struggled with unfastening her fitted riding jacket and finally jerked it open, buttons flying everywhere. He peeled away her layers of clothing and when she stood naked in front of him he began kissing her hungrily. His hands were everywhere, touching her, sliding up and down her bare back, pulling the pins from her hair. It came tumbling down and he ran his fingers through it, kissing her again and again.

She began undressing him, undoing buttons and unwinding his cravat. As she pulled it away, she kissed his throat, feeling his pulse jump. He growled and lifted her off her feet, carrying her to her bed and tossing her upon it. She watched as he quickly rid himself of the rest of his clothing before his body covered hers. He made love to her frantically, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. When he entered her, she tensed but felt none of the pain of the night before. Apparently, he had been telling the truth that it only hurt the first time.

He had her wrap her legs about his waist as he continued thrusting into her. It allowed him to penetrate deeper. His tongue imitated his manhood, plunging into her mouth, plundering and tasting. When her release came, his mouth covered her cry. Soon after, he shuddered violently and collapsed atop her, pushing her into the mattress. She welcomed the weight of him, her arms and legs still wrapped around him.

He pushed away and left the bed, heading toward their dressing rooms.

“I will see you at dinner. Eight o’clock. Come to the winter parlor.”

With that, he was gone.

*

Anthony entered thebreakfast room, surprised to find Laurel already there. They had dined together last night in a small room that he remembered eating in once on his last birthday at Linwood. His aunt, Constance, had been present and it had been a happy occasion. Even Theodore, who usually wanted all the focus on him, allowed Anthony to bask in the attention he received that night. He had escorted Laurel to her room after they finished eating and left her alone. Though he would have liked nothing more than to stay, he still held back from her. He couldn’t let her see how much she affected him. How he looked forward to her company. She threatened to worm her way into his heart and he would shield it at all costs. While she would make a good duchess and a very good mother, based upon what he had seen, he didn’t want to let down his guard. He needed to keep a part of him separate from her.

The truth was, Laurel seemed a very good person, despite her humble beginnings. He, on the other hand, still felt like an imposter, allowing everyone to address him as Your Grace as they fawned over him, treating him as if he were someone special. He didn’t feel like a duke. He knew he needed to concentrate on learning more about his vast responsibilities—and focus less on what he wanted to do in bed with his new wife. He hadn’t been a nice man before or after the war. He was afraid if he let Laurel become too close to him, she would see he was a fraud.

And not want him anymore.

Anthony seated himself at the head of the table, his wife sitting to his right. Laurel wore a rose-colored gown, which turned her hair raven black and made her emerald eyes stand out. Over dinner, he had shared with her some of the things he’d learned from Woodward and they decided the route to take across the estate today. She wanted him to meet the tenants she’d visited with yesterday. He wasn’t thrilled with the idea. Despite his façade, he was nervous around people. Even at his club, he didn’t say much. The only time he truly felt himself was when he boxed at Gentleman Jack’s, pounding his fists into some poor sparring partner. He supposed violence permeated his soul, burned into him by war. No one could save him since he had no soul left to save.

He finished his meal and swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Can you ride out in a quarter hour?” he asked.

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