Page 28 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

“What do you think?”

“I hesitate to even voice it. But in hopes I don’t sound too critical, you have no way of containing the blood from your victims. I see no trough, no bucket. I dare say, this material, leather, is it?” I walk over to the odd bench and run my fingers over the supple fabric, shivering as I glide across it. “Is far too nice to be ruined by death or dismemberment.”

He tips his head back and laughs, and this time, there’s no acerbic bite to it. Just boundless mirth. I want to roll about in that sound, to take it into my body. It’s so rich and throaty, playing over my skin as if he’s physically touching me.

“That’s settled then. Once we are wed, no more gothic novels for you.”

“Bold of you to assume you can dictate my reading choices.”

“Bold of you to think you’ll have time to read once I’m allowed to have my way with you.”

“The assumption was yours to begin with,” I stammer, my heart pounding in the heat of his gaze. “Unless you wish to change your aforementioned banning of gothic novels and amend that to say, once we are wed, you’ll have no more time for reading?”

He smirks and crosses his arms, the lopsided grin doing something to my body that it’s never done before. An uncomfortable heat spreads from my head to my toes as dampness gathers between my thighs—the same dampness that wakes me up from my feverish dreams. Perhaps I’m ill and should go lie down.

“Please, Your Grace-”

“Joseph,” he corrects me, sending another flip into my stomach. “If I am to be your husband, you should start addressing me by my Christian name.”

My fingers tremble as I bring them to my chest. “Your Grace, you are still under the misapprehension that I will say ‘I do.’ I came here with a purpose, and I refuse to leave until the matter is settled.”

His smile disappears as his lips turn down into a fierce scowl. “Then, by all means. Let’s settle it.”

I stare, dumbstruck, as he rolls up his sleeves, revealing his massive forearms. Not that long ago, he threatened to birch me. Does this mean he plans to do the same tonight?

“Y- you stay right there. I- I refuse to be birched for something I didn’t do. I wasn’t at fault for tonight.”

As if a storm cloud rolls overhead, Foxford’s countenance becomes almost thunderous. “Somehow, in the midst of all this witty banter, I had somehow forgotten the events of tonight. Make no mistake, Madame, that this will not happen again. I will not birch you. Not tonight at least, but I will thrash some reason into you.”

“You dare strike a lady?”

“A lady? Ha. That’s rich coming from someone like you. Now turn around, pull up your gown, and bend over.”

“You can’t be serious!” I dig my fingers into my dress, holding it firmly by my side.

“Do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

Heat races through my body as I stare up into his face, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You wouldn’t dare.” My words are bold, however, in my gut, I have no doubt he’ll do what he says. And that’s the part that frightens me.

“I gave you full warning.” Reaching my side in just one step, he pulls me into his arms and turns me about so I’m no longer facing him.

“Your Grace,” I cry out, struggling in his implacable grasp. “You must stop this!”

“Do not worry, my dear,” he croons. “I will not remove so much as to put your virtue at risk. I am level-headed enough to save that for our wedding night.”

“But-”

“Enough,” he roars, pushing me toward that odd bench.

Before I can turn around, he flips up the back of my dress, exposing my shift. The chill from when we were in the hallway is nothing compared to the cold that wraps about my heart like an icy fist. I want to rage at the man causing me my current distress.

I want to pluck his eyes out and roll them along the floor and watch as he flails about trying to find them. But I know it’s useless. He’s far too large and imposing. And what’s even worse is I cannot find it within myself to be scared of his familiar touches.

It’s not like the stranger that molested me in the library. Foxford’s actions somehow override that sense of terror and go directly to either anger or some unnamed emotion I’ve never experienced before. Unfortunately, the harder he handles me as he tosses me up onto the bench and straps me down, the more the scales tip toward the unknown.

I don’t understand it, and I can’t seem to stop it. Heat continues to lick at my body as his fingers skim my bare shins. Though I thrash about within my bonds, I know deep down, it’s half-hearted. My curious mind wants to see what else he’ll do, to see if I’ll finally learn what sacred thing happens between an Alpha and his omega.

What I’m not expecting, however, is the sharp whack as his hand smacks my upturned bottom. It stings, far more than I can anticipate. Never in my life, to my remembrance, have I been spanked, and now, as a grown woman of eighteen, I must suffer this humiliation as he alternates cheek to cheek, leaving a blaze of heat and discomfort in his wake.