Page 10 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

“Like what? How exactly am I leaving you?” The purr in my voice isn’t supposed to be there, but in my mind, I can’t help but wonder what state I’m leaving her.

Is she still aroused or merely just furious? Again, I tip my nose in the air, catching the peppery stench of her wrath flooding the room. And yet, underneath, just barely cutting through is the same honeyed scent from earlier. I want to press her against the wall, to pollute the room with more of that alluring scent.

Gripping my hands by my side, I force my thoughts to turn to more mundane things and less on my throbbing, aching cock. And for what? For some hellcat that can’t even manage to keep her household intact for all her frivolous spending? For some devil of a woman who’s made it her mission to reduce my good friend to ruin while she plays the victim?

That last thought is all I need to get my head back on straight. I cannot and will not find anything about her person desirable or delectable. If I think of her at all, it should only be in terms of how best to punish her, to drive her to her knees. But in supplication, rather than sensual submission.

“This involves my life. How dare you two wander off to plot it when I have no say?”

“Because, my dear,” I grind out, allowing myself a few steps forward. “Nothing you say will bear any influence. It is my money that will be spent, and you will not see a farthing of it. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

She gives off a shriek and tugs at her hair hard enough that I half wonder if she should be sent to an asylum. “You and Father both. I am a grown woman, capable of knowing such things as money. Perhaps if I was taught better, we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”

Now that’s a thought. It never occurred to me she might spend above her means because she knows no better. Granted, with what Middlehey has told me, he’s asked her repeatedly to stop, so in this matter, she’s still not blameless.

“Fine. You may attend, but you are not to speak. Do not tempt me to gag you.”

Her eyes widen, and I wait for a scent of fear to slither into the air, but it doesn’t. Curious. Is she not frightened by the idea? From the smell of it, she isn’t aroused either. More like she’s taking it in stride, no doubt filing it away as yet one more supposed grievance against my person.

Walking over to a desk that is nearly empty of books, I search around for a sheet of paper and a quill. After dipping the tip in the ink, I pause and stare up into those vexing blue eyes, the ones that look at me with such curiosity and wonder.

“She will no doubt have to have her coming out. You said she’s almost eighteen, correct?” Lady Teresa opens her mouth to speak but closes it when I give her a soft growl.

“That is correct. Eighteen in a matter of months.”

“Excellent. And has she been showing signs of nesting?” At that, her nose scrunches up in the most adorable look of confusion I’ve ever seen.

“Not that I’ve noticed, but then, I’m not making it a habit to watch her.”

“Hmmm.” Standing, I drop the quill back down to the desk and walk over to her, noting the opening and closing of her mouth.

Finally, there’s that look of fear I’ve been wanting, that quiver of her lips I long to gaze upon. At least in this, she’s still an innocent. Stalking close, she backs up, paying no heed to the books behind her. Just as she’s about to fall, I grasp her around the waist and pull her close, so achingly close.

Her small hands curl into fists and pummel my chest, but I don’t feel it. For a moment, all I want to do is bend her backward and ravage those lips that say much, though none of it is of consequence. Driving those thoughts out of my mind, I lean forward, scenting her, taking her deep into my lungs.

There’s a scent there, far more delicate than the sage and mint surrounding her like a protective shell. She may not be ready for her heat yet, but her body is preparing. I can smell it on her, delicate but potent. She needs to have her coming out, and soon. Middlehey does not need an omega in heat stalking his halls.

“W- what?” Her whispered tone is so soft, so plaintive I almost forgive her for breaking the rules, but I can’t let her get away with anything.

Besides, from what I understand, this chit has already been allowed too much freedom and needs to learn to obey. “Turn around, bend over, and place your hands squarely on the stack of books.”

“I- I beg your pardon?”

“I said you were not allowed to speak. You broke the rules, and so a punishment must be levied. Unless you prefer your cousin to discipline you.”

“I want neither of you taking such liberties.”

“Very well. I shall administer.” My cock twitches as I go to undo my jacket.

I study the quiver of her body, the push and pull of emotions as they cross her face while I walk back to the desk to lay my jacket across the back of the chair. The room blossoms into a potent, heady mixture of fear and arousal, so strong it nearly buckles my knees. She wants this. She probably doesn’t know why or even how her body is reacting, but I can read her, picking up on every nuance, hidden or otherwise.

She’s dangerous to my calm on multiple levels. More than the need to thrash her until she sees the errors of her ways, but to also bend her to my exacting rule. However, she is not mine to claim. I never thought I’d have to remind myself of this fact, seeing as she has none of the qualities I look for in a woman.

I keep that thought forefront in my mind as I prowl back over to her. It doesn’t hurt that she’s now crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes like the hellcat she is. Reaching down to my wrist, I undo the cuff and slowly roll the fabric up, revealing my forearm.

Her gaze takes in every movement, her pupils dilating at the sight. “I never agreed to your rule.”

“You don’t have to agree for it to stand. Now you will turn around like a good girl, or Middlehey will assist you. Which will it be?”