Page 27 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

“I believe your thanks are repayment enough,” he said as politely as possible, a thick rasp layering over his voice, “but unfortunately, I must get back to my work.”

Instead of getting upset, as Nathaniel had predicted, Grace only smiled at him serenely and nodded.

“Of course,” she replied, understanding shining in her eyes, “I won’t keep you any longer. I just want to say thank you again for the gowns.”

Before he could say anything else, Grace closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight embrace. Comfort, not numbness, flooded through him, and before he knew it, he felt his own arms wrap around her in return. The warmth from the touch was not arousing—unlike when they kissed—but peaceful, relaxing. He felt his entire being shift downward a little as if collapsing onto himself.

She was a small woman in height—there was no denying that—and now, in his arms and chest to chest, he realized that the top of her head barely reached his sternum. How could someone so small make him feel such a huge shift in sensations? He looked down at her in wonder as she nuzzled her cheek against the buttons of his shirt, and he held her tighter as he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, his mother’s face flashed before him, making him jump. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think of what she had looked like, and the sudden recall seized his fear as if he were seeing a ghost and not an image in his head. A sense of loss he had long shut out suddenly swelled inside him, and then his symptoms began. The numbness swept through him with great force, and his jolts of jagged pain soon traveled down his arms.

With more force than intended, he shoved Grace out of his arms. The moment he did so, he felt his arms start to shake in revulsion, and he backed away several more steps. At that moment, he wasn’t sure what was worse, having Grace in his arms or out of them.

“Grace, I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have happened,” he apologized, looking at her with regret. “It’s just…I have made it clear that I do not like to be touched. Why can you not accept that?”

Grace’s hurt expression slowly transformed into a look of defiance, and she raised her chin in the air.

“You do like to be touched, Nathaniel. I see it. I feel it when you relax into my embrace. But something stops you. Tell me what it is. Tell me why you feel the need to hide from me like you do?” she replied.

“I am your wife, Nathaniel. Your Wife. If anyone should know what it is you are struggling with, it is me! So, what is it? Why do you hide your hands with gloves all of the time? Why do you shrink from my touch?”

Nathaniel felt his nerves give way as Grace pressed him for the truth. He wanted to tell her. The words were on his lips. But he couldn’t reveal such weakness. Not to her. Not to anyone.

“That topic is not up for discussion,” he replied, his tone commanding. “And might I remind you that this is a marriage of convenience, Grace. One that saved us both from scandal. We are not the star-crossed lovers you see in plays. We are two people that were caught in an uncompromising position.”

A heart-achingly soft gasp left Grace as her mouth fell open at his harsh words. For a moment, she looked as if she were about to weep, but then, a smooth calmness came over her face, and she nodded.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she whispered, her soft pink cheeks growing a flaming red from her shame. “I lost myself. I thought your gifts meant something. Clearly, I was wrong.” She then turned and walked calmly toward the door.

A pang hit him square in his gut as he once more went from “Nathaniel” to “Your Grace.” He knew what he did was wrong. That he deserved her coldness. But he was also angry. Angry at not being able to do what he wanted. Angry at having to deal with these damned symptoms. And angry that Grace kept pushing him.

“The way I pushed you was regrettable, Grace,” he said as he met her at the door. “But you must understand that it wouldn’t have happened if you had obeyed me.”

“I understand,” she replied hollowly, cutting him off. “There is no need to explain further.”

Before Nathaniel could form his next reply, Grace pulled the door open and left without another word. For a moment, he just stood there, studying the door as if it could tell him what to do. Then, with a roar of frustration, he pounded his fist against the wood once, leaving an indent of his knuckles. He stormed back to his desk, shaking, and as he tried to get back to his work, he didn’t even notice the blood seeping from his new wound.

* * *

“Your Grace,” Brigette called softly from the other side of the door as she knocked, “may I help you get ready for bed?”

Hot tears poured from Grace’s eyes the moment she made it back to the privacy of her chambers. She wasn’t sure if they were a product of her hurt feelings or embarrassment or both, but either way, she let them fall.

“No,” Grace called out, her voice strained, “I shall do it myself tonight, Brigette. Go on to bed.”

She waited until she heard her handmaid’s retreating footsteps, and then Grace let herself sink onto the couch in her sitting room. It had been going well—but then again, it always started out well, didn’t it? Intimacy seemed to bloom between them naturally, but any time she acknowledged it, it darkened Nathaniel’s temper, and she would once more end up alone and saddened.

“When will I learn?” she whispered aloud, drying her eyes. She knew that her husband did not like to be touched, and she was trying to respect that, but she craved the intimacy of physical love badly. She missed the hugs she felt from her parents and sisters. Missed the way they could lean on one another when the day was long and hard.

Changes would have to be made, she realized as she began to undress for bed. Since Nathaniel could not change for her, she would have to change for him. And to do so, she would have to keep busy. Wiping away her tears, Grace pulled on her nightgown and then sat down at her desk. If she couldn’t help herself around Nathaniel, she would have to make it so she wasn’t around him. At all.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Touch me,” Grace begged, her whispered voice grazing seductively over his ear as she straddled his lap. “Please, Nathaniel, touch me.”

The ache in her voice was so much that Nathaniel couldn’t help but let out a moan of need himself. In a flurry of movement, he moved her from his lap to his bed, laying her soft body down among the covers. Pleasure bloomed in her face as he gathered her skirts up to her waist and sank himself deep inside of her.

Grace’s beautiful blue eyes widened with a mixture of pleasure and pain as his cock filled her tight, wet sheath, and for a moment, they both froze.

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