Page 68 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

Debts that my wife seemed shocked to find out about. And that’s the missing piece. It ties everything together. This explains Teresa’s confusion about her debts. Because there were none. But then why would Middlehey lie about that? Why wouldn’t he just say it was her father’s debts he had to pay off?

Unless that just isn’t the case. Anger rolls through my body as I continue to watch him torture her in ways that leave no physical marks. But the one that cut her the most was the loss of her lady’s maid, Mary. It shows me that my wife cares so little about physical things and so much about human companionship.

She mourned the loss of her trinkets, to be sure, but it was nothing like the pain of losing a friend and confidant. Fury turns my blood molten as I hold my wife close, making my purr louder so it encompasses her entire being. I was wrong, and I can see that now, plain as day.

There is no way for me to ever make it up to her, but I vow, then and there, to keep her happy. Starting with this maid. Once our heat is broken, getting that little beta into my employ will be the first step. After that, I will make Middlehey pay for what he’s done.

To cause such anguish to one so pure and lovely… It will not be borne. If only I had proof. Clutching my mate close to me, I wrap her in my arms, sending out a hopeful prayer that the man I hired will find something. If not, I will spend the rest of my days hunting down every little bit of evidence I can until my so-called friend can no longer deny any of it.

As I stew, contemplating violence, my little doll stirs in my arms, her eyes seeking out mine. Cupping her head with my hand, I draw her up, capturing her lips with mine. I pour everything I can into that one kiss as I push my feelings of love and admiration through the bond.

For a moment, she lays there, languid, soaking up my affection, reminding me of the cad I’ve been. No longer. From this moment forth, I vow to make it up to her. Though I’m not a man of words, and not practiced in the way of groveling, I will allow my actions to speak for me.

As we lay there, my knot eventually softens, allowing her to move once more. Her fingers slide over me, seeking out every secret spot. She follows her touch with her lips until my cock is hard once more. With a wicked smile, she grabs me, stroking up and down until I’m nigh able to resist her.

Eyes darting from my cock to me, she frowns as she studies the pulsing girth in her hands. She has no words for what she wants, but I can see her desire in her mind. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I bring her up, making her hover over my cock.

“Guide me in, my love,” I groan, tipping my hips up until my tip brushes her lower lips.

It takes several agonizing moments as she rocks back and forth, her body brushing against me. But soon, she straddles me, her hips once more stretching out as she lowers herself.

We both moan in unison as we come back together. Her movements are slow and tentative as I grab her arse and show her what to do. But once she seems to understand, she rolls her hips around, her eyes fluttering as pleasure shines on her face.

Her inner walls grip me, dragging a ragged moan from my lips. “That’s it, my love. Find your pleasure. Fuck me with your body.”

Her pace quickens, and through the bond, I feel her ecstasy. It triples my own, swelling my knot, so I once more lock myself inside her body. With a loud cry, her body ripples over me, her orgasm shooting through, triggering my own.

She collapses onto my chest, her fingers digging into my skin as she rides out her release, my seed lubricating her insides and swelling her belly. Before I can ascertain her thoughts, however, she nuzzles my chest, running her lips over a spot just before my heart.

When she bites down, I’m completely lost. The bond we shared just moments before amplifies, the older strands shattering as new ones, thicker and far more intense, take their place. Where they were once like spiderwebs, they are now cords, anchoring us together.

Spots dance before my eyes as my body wars between the shared pleasures of our bodies and the sensations of our bond being reformed, forged in unbreakable metal. Images and sensations flood my brain, overriding rational thought. It’s as if I’m no longer connected to my body. I’m floating above us, seeing things through her eyes.

The pleasure of marking me zings through her, making both of our heartbeats quicken. In her mind, I can see the calculations. I can see her wondering if this was wise or not. But at the core of everything, is that deep-seated need to be loved and wanted.

In her mind, this would give her that. If only she could understand that she no longer needed something like a bond to get that from me. From this moment on, I am committed to her happiness, putting it far above my own. Forever, she will be my wife, my mate, my other half—the music to my very soul.

CHAPTER 33

Teresa

Soreness wracks my body from the moment I open my eyes. But more than that, a gnawing hunger eats at my insides. Cracking an eye open, I look up at the streaming light coming in through the window, surprised to see I’m no longer in the library.

Did I just imagine all of that? Closing my eyes, I rub at my temples, forcing memories to come back from the cobwebbed dungeon they seem to reside in. Fragmented thoughts stab at me, filling my gut with a different type of hunger, but as I look around, I find that Joseph is no longer there. I rub at the sheets next to me, seeking out his warmth, but it appears that he’s been gone for a while.

Curious that I’m actually in his bed again and not my own. For someone that thinks so little of me… Shaking my head, I force my body out of the bed, knowing I probably need a good bath and some hot chocolate to fully wake me up. I reach out for my dressing gown when a wrenching sensation in my shoulder causes me to stop.

“Oh! No, miss! Allow me to get that for you!” A familiar voice cries out.

Tears mist in my eyes as I shake my head again, but this time to rid myself of these plaguing emotions. Mary is no longer here with me. Why am I still hearing her voice?

Turning, I pause, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. From my room walks in Mary, her hair pinned up for work just like it always was. Am I truly mad? Have I crossed some line in my mind I can never recover from? Even as I rub at my eyes, she remains the same, not morphing into the maid that usually helps me in the mornings.

“Master Foxford made it very clear that you were to take it easy today. Your shoulder is healing, but it will take some time to feel at its best.” She stands before me, dressing gown in hand, but instead of taking it from her, I push past and race to the nearest mirror.

There, in the reflection, I slowly ease down the collar of my night rail, revealing a bandage. Coming up behind me, Mary begins to tug at it, slowly pulling it from my skin.

“I’m supposed to make sure it’s nice and clean this morning, so you just relax, and I’ll take care of everything. His Grace sure did leave you a pretty mark. I’ve seen some that are ghastly and gnarled. When this heals, it will look perfect on you.”