Page 9 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

Her hand reaches out to strike me, her fingers curled into a fist, just like someone knowledgeable in the art of boxing. I duck at the last moment, grabbing her delicate wrist in my grasp, pulling her close to me. Her body brands mine as my nostrils fill with her intoxicating scent.

It’s only because she’s an omega. Nothing more. Everything about her is reprehensible to me, and yet, I want nothing more than to skim my nose down the long column of her neck and bury my face into her alluring fragrance.

Her body heaves against me, the action brushing her diminutive chest against my upper abs. It draws my gaze downward, and with the poor quality of her gown, I’m able to see just inside. My cock twitches as I study the space between her breasts, wondering if my cock could easily slide in that gap.

Averting my gaze, I grip her shoulders and push her away, noting the widening of her irises. This is not good at all. Gripping her wrist once more, I drag her fist to the front of me and make a grand show of smacking the back of her hand. Gone is the slight haze of sensuality, and in its wake is a blazing anger.

“How dare you strike me?”

“You are behaving as if a child, and so I shall treat you as one.”

“Only because you take liberties with me, you have no right to take. I am entitled to defend myself, Sir.”

“As of right now, it is my coin that will dress your person, turning you into something somewhat fashionable. In essence, I own what I’m paying for.” Her eyes widen again as a faint, honeyed scent, no doubt a tendril of arousal, pleasantly contrasting the earthy tones of her natural fragrance, flits between us. “I will touch everything I own… within the bounds of propriety.”

“You have already well passed that,” she breathes out, her body trembling.

“Not by a long shot.” I pull back, needing to break whatever this maddening spell is weaving around us. From off to the side, Middlehey clears his throat, aptly reminding me we are not alone. “I needed to see if your figure was enhanced by a corset or not. Thankfully, there is room for improvement.”

Again, her hostility peppers the air. “And what, pray tell, do you find lacking that a new dress cannot fix?”

“Your breasts.”

Her mouth drops as her hands slide up to conceal the offended lumps on her chest. “How dare you? I-”

“They are far smaller than what is now fashionable,” I continue, ignoring her blustering. “But with the aid of a corset, I suppose we can fool the unsuspecting chap. Some kind-hearted, witless sap would no doubt refuse to even look upon your flesh, as it would be far too unseemly.”

For a moment, her lips tremble as she looks away from me. Before she can turn all the way, I catch a glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Pray, do not stop there,” she barks out. “I’m sure there are many faults you’ve already cataloged and are fully prepared to thrust in my face. Please, do not stop at my,” she pauses for a moment, another hint of a blush spreading across the bridge of her nose, “breasts. What else of me is lacking?”

My heart clenches ever so lightly as my conscience pricks at my brain. It’s never my intention to ever insult anyone of the fairer sex; however, the pain she’s put my friend through is abominable and dare I say worth whatever vile I spew upon her.

“Shall I mention your eyes then? Wholly lovely, the perfect shade of blue, but set far too close to each other. You have lines above your nose, no doubt from scrunching over all these books, a pointless pastime for any female.”

It’s not at all how I feel, seeing as I too like to indulge in literary pastimes. However, my job at hand is to poke and prod this vexing chit until she makes leave of this house. Seeing how she still clutches the book in her fingers, holding it against her so as to not allow any harm to come to it, it’s a blow that should land. A low blow, but a hit, nonetheless.

At that, I note the vibration in her shoulders, but she hides it away, just as well as any other lady at court.

“And? Surely you have more. You cannot merely be unsatisfied with my breasts and my eyes. Is it also my hair, perhaps? The ink stained on my fingers? Perhaps the width of my hips? Do you not find them becoming or wide enough to bear someone's heirs?”

With each word, she steps closer, allowing me to notice small things about her, things no one else could see unless they were as scandalously close as she and me. A small, faint scar runs along the side of her jaw, starting just above her chin and coming down.

But with as fair as her skin is, the white is hardly noticeable, and yet, I want to run my finger along the line, to press her down into my silken sheets as I demand she tell me how it came to be. My cock presses painfully against the front of my breeches, but if she makes any notice of it, she does not mention it. No doubt her delicate sensibilities have no notion of the monster I keep trapped behind the thick buckskin.

“Are you offering? Do you wish for me to measure their breadth and see if they are suitable?”

Her mouth drops open even as Middlehey slides in between us. Truly, I do feel as if I have gone too far with that one. However, not one to be stifled, Lady Teresa pushes past her cousin and sets the book down on a nearby table before pulling the thin fabric against her body. With the cloth taut against her skin, I note the slight swell of her curves, hidden by the unbecoming attire.

She’s a slender little thing, but a handful in more ways than one. If she were at The Rose and Thorne, I’d have no problem taking her in hand, driving her wild with the promise of an orgasm, only to rip it away if she’s naughty.

But we are not at that brothel specializing in sexual vice. We are in a library of all places. And Lady Teresa is not to be touched, especially not by someone like me, someone that can break her, tear away her innocence. But more than that, I refuse to indulge a petulant child. To do so would be to cause her injury, violence which I might not be able to control.

I clench my jaw as I step away, refusing to look any further at the tempting sight she offers. With the bet I made with my friends still ringing in my ears, the last thing I want or need right now is to be trapped in a marriage.

Not only is one thousand pounds a large sum to lose, but to be the first? The creator of the bet falling prey to someone as acrimonious as she? I would never hear the end of it.

“Come, Middlehey. Let us leave this harpy to her studies. You and I have an agreement to come to.”

“You dare leave me like this?” Her words are soft but sharp as she stands there, proud as any statue.