Page 26 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

“In so many ways, Your Grace.”

The banter between us is fine. The scathing tone in her voice, however, is not. It’s high time I end this now and disabuse her of the notion she can speak to me any way she likes.

“Hold out your wrists.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, forgive me. Does your highness no longer understand the king’s English? Shall I repeat it in French? Perhaps Italian? No doubt my uneducated upbringing is what’s hindering you from truly understanding me.”

“I understand the words just fine, Your Grace. It is your meaning I’m still trying to ascertain.”

“There is nothing to deduce. I give an order, and you obey. That is how things will be between us from now on. As my wife-”

“As your wife? Are you deaf? I specifically came here telling you I do not wish for this union. Why continue in this line of speaking when you now know I will not wed you?”

Without waiting for her to obey me, I cross the rest of the distance between us, catching her off guard. As my arm circles her waist, she lashes out, kicking and clawing the air. I have to give the minx credit. For someone so small, she certainly knows how to use her body.

It actually takes effort to pull her away from the bed where her arms wrap firmly against the post. I shouldn’t be getting erect from the exertion, although feeling the swell of her bottom against me as she bucks back and forth is almost too tempting to resist.

However, I don’t need to indulge. If anything, I need to be the one that’s above reproach at all times. Despite what she’s protesting, there will be a wedding, and there will be plenty of time to introduce her to my brand of intimacy.

Slipping the cravat in between my lips, I pull Lady Teresa back as my free hand pries at her fingers, removing them one by one from the wood. She still writhes within my grasp, not comprehending she’s not able to best me. Not like before.

Here, there are no swords or any weapons for her to strike me with. This is a matter of brute strength. As much as she may loathe learning this, an omega will never be able to beat an Alpha. Wrestling her down to the bed, I pin her onto the downy surface with my knee on her back.

I tug at her arms, pulling one, then the other, behind her until I’m able to tie the cravat around her wrists, keeping her from lashing out. From there, I grab her about the waist and scoop her into my arms.

“Unhand me, you ruffian,” she cries out, nearly loud enough for the whole house to hear.

Snarling, I take a detour over to one of my chests and pull out another cravat. “Open your mouth.”

“How dare you ord-”

As soon as her lips part widely enough, I shove the cloth between her teeth, effectively gagging her. “You will be silent and listen.” Walking us back over to the chair, I sit her on my knee like an errant child about to be scolded.

The visual is not lost on me as I take in her wild, tousled hair, the artificial curl starting to straighten back to its natural disposition. Only as of today, Lady Teresa is no longer a child. She is very much a woman, a woman who I’m about to claim far sooner than I’d like to think.

“It doesn’t matter what you came here to discuss. The matter is finished. You and I are to be wed in five days. That is, if the Archbishop is obliging. However, with the amount of coin I will donate his way, I’m sure he’ll not say no.” I slide my fingers under her chin and force her face to mine. “And with the amount of coin I’m spending on you, I expect our marriage to be a fruitful affair.”

She struggles in my grasp, her face turning red as she tries to speak around the gag. The muffled grunts, along with her arse rocking back and forth across my thighs, make my vision fuzzy for a moment.

“If I pull this out, do you promise to speak rationally and without alerting the entire house that you are here in my bedchambers when you should be dancing away at the ball?”

Lady Teresa gives a slight nod, and I tug on the fabric, drawing it slowly, inexorably, from between her lips. If only it was my cock working its way free of her mouth. This maddening confliction, this need to be both angry with her and bed her within an inch of her sanity, claws at my brain.

“I will not marry you.”

“Wrong answer.” Irritation rolls down my spine as I sigh and start to undo the buttons at my wrist. “Move from this spot, and I will tie you down. Understand?”

“No. I don’t understand any of this.” She shuffles forward, her body lurching as she hops down.

“I warned you.”

Scooping her up under my arm, I carry her as if she’s a sack of food. Though she squirms about, I ensure my grasp is tight enough that she cannot tumble and thus hurt herself. Any injury to her person will come from me and not some accidental mishap.

She begins to squeak, and then to bellow, her body bucking against me, but I don’t take the time to hush her up. Besides, where we’re going is close by, and soon, no one will be able to hear her. Pressing my hand against a surreptitious part of the wall, I wait for the hidden door to open.

Near the entrance, I set her down and put her face into a corner. This isn’t just to further humiliate her, but also to give her a place to stand and orient her mind while her arms are tied, and we are in near total darkness. With her safely out of the way, I find the pouch of matches, strike one and light a gas lamp.