Page 64 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

My heart drops a bit at his words, reminded of tonight's actions. But before I can ask for forgiveness, he loosens my bonds and gathers me into his arms. “I never want to be as afraid as I was today. You’re my omega, and as such, you must remain safe at all times. I can’t bring myself to punish you anymore, because the urge to lash out at you is no longer there. But the agony of thinking you sold yourself to another will never leave me. It’s a wound I will bear for all time.”

My heart stutters at his words. He sounds so earnest, so caring. Perhaps there’s hope for us after all. I just need to show him I'm not the monster he thinks I am.

Dragging over a blanket, he wraps me up tight and holds me in his arms. His purr runs over my body like warm chocolate on a cold day, and I find myself snuggling in deeper to feel that decadent sound. As we leave, I peek out from my makeshift cocoon to see the man he spoke with earlier.

“Room is ready to be cleaned. Send the dilator and crop to my house. Tell the Madame to send whatever bill she desires. I will pay for it.”

Yawning, I hide away in the warmth of his arms, only stirring long enough to feel him get on his horse. My eyes shoot open as I look around for my mare, pain lancing through my heart.

“My horse!”

“Settle yourself,” he murmurs against my hair. “One of the servants is following behind. He will see her safely home.”

I want to. Oh, how I wish I could just drive out all these feelings and sensations. However, with every rock of my body from the movement of the horse, I’m reminded that there’s something deep inside, invading me. It stretches me out, making me ache, making me writhe. If I wasn’t so tired, it would be more stimulating, but as it is, I can barely keep my eyes open.

Darkness encroaches my vision as the activities of tonight take their toll. I’ve never been so exhausted or so complete in my life. Even when the duke took me the first time, it still didn’t feel like this. Turning my face into his chest, I soak up his attention like a desert lapping up the rain.

For the first time since Father died, I feel cared for… safe.

* * *

Heat overwhelms me, stifling even my breath. Cracking an eye open, I wince as the bright light of the day slants over the bed, drowning me in the hot rays. The brocade of the blankets feels different, wrong somehow.

Forcing myself up, I note the differences, realizing I’m somehow in the duke’s room. I glance over to my side, not at all surprised that he’s not there. With a giant yawn and stretch, I force myself out of the bed and over to the bay window, where a cup of hot chocolate awaits me.

However, it’s already cooled a bit, no longer the piping hot drink I was expecting. How long was I asleep? I look out the window, doing my best to judge by the sun. I never was adept at things like this. No doubt if I was trained as a sailor with a sextant, I would know the exact hour and perhaps minute.

The main question that plagues me at the moment is why did I wake up in Foxford’s bed? After last night, I know something had shifted between us, but I didn’t think it would make him want to sleep with me. He hadn’t sought me out for that before. Perhaps it’s just one more piece of evidence that things are changing between us?

Closing my eyes, I take inventory of my body, my gaze darting about as I reach under my night rail to touch my bottom hole. Seems as if the duke not only removed the object but also cleaned me up and dressed me for bed. It’s touching he cared enough about me to see to my needs even when I was too tired to care for myself.

I sip on the chocolate, my stomach fluttering as I replay last night’s events in my mind. Despite how angry he was with me, he still treated me far more gently than I expected. However, what sticks out is nagging accusations that refuse to leave.

What debts could he possibly think I had? Again, a flush races down my body, scattering my thoughts. Something doesn’t feel right. Did I perhaps get sick while I was out in the cool night air?

Rising, I leave the rest of my chocolate untouched, my insides squirming as I make my way into my bedroom. Perhaps if I just attend to my toilette, I’ll feel better. But deep in my gut, I know it won’t make a difference. This feels far worse than any sickness I’ve ever felt before.

The worst part is that with every clench of my gut, my quim also flutters with need, far more than I’ve felt since marrying Foxford. It’s as if my body craves him, as if he’s the solution to this problem. But that’s just absurd.

No one ever heals from sickness through copulation. Stumbling into my room, I pause to look at myself in the mirror, noting the blush on my cheeks. Feverish, warm, and altogether too tight. It’s as if my skin is pulled taut against my bones.

Glancing down, I see a small package. I pick it up, hoping to distract myself from whatever this ailment is. Inside are several new pencils, all better quality than the ones I’ve ever bought for myself. My heart thumps as I realize Foxford must have gotten these for me in the earlier hours.

It certainly puts him in a higher esteem. Perhaps this means he’s softening toward me? One could hope. I trail my finger down the simple wood encasing the lead, a soft smile forming on my lips.

However, it quickly diminishes as a horrible cramp doubles me over. Wetness gathers between my legs, the same as when I’m aroused, but far more. What could be the meaning of this? I look about, desperate to find some relief, somewhere I can go to try sleeping it off.

There’s the bed, of course, but for some reason, it doesn't look inviting. Everything is wrong. It’s all hard angles and sharp corners. Not at all the comforting haven I need. Still though, I force myself to lie down, curling up on top of the covers as I try to sleep.

I can’t. Nothing is comfortable, and if possible, I’m even more hot and achy. A soft whimper eases from my throat as I wrap my arms around my body. I wish Foxford was here. He’d know what to do.

As it is, I crave safety and security. Since he’s not here, I’ll have to find the next best thing. Forcing myself out of the bed, I throw on my dressing gown and head out into the hallway.

For once, the servant who follows my every move isn’t there, and it’s yet one more action that endears me to the duke. Something shifted between us last night, and today, I can see the proof of it.

Clutching the too-hot material around my body, I hurry down to the library, needing to surround myself with books. That should make me happy. It’s always been my safe haven in the past, so why not now?

I throw the doors open wide, prepared to lose myself in a tome or two. But as I step inside, everything stops. Nothing is right about this room. Everything is pure chaos.