Page 60 of The Duke’s Rejected Mate

‘Tis a lame joke, but Henhaven tosses his head back and laughs. The sound is not abhorrent in the slightest, but it’s not the same rusted, deeper sound that Charles has. It’s clear Henhaven laughs far more often than Charles.

If only I could find it in me to want him. I like him well enough, but that’s not what I wanted in a marriage. I wanted passion. I wanted late nights with murmurs of admiration. Once I discovered the darker side to romance, I wanted my evenings filled with whips, chains, ropes, and pain.

None of those seem like things Henhaven can give me, and Charles knows it. Even as the man regales Teresa with some rock or stone he adores, Charles stares at me, keeping his gaze locked with mine.

There’s heat there, desire, longing, and lust. When has Henhaven ever looked at me like that before? Just one glance from Charles and arousal pools low in my belly. With Henhaven, I find I could make of him a friend.

I fear marriages have thrived on less.

Thankfully, the time grows short, and both men rise. Teresa and I rise as well and bid them a good day. My heart pounds in my chest as I watch Charles leave, staring at the broad expanse of his back.

I just have to keep my resolve. Soon, I’ll be married, and it will be easier. Time will have to heal these wounds.

With a soft smile, I beg leave to go to my room so I can be alone. There, on the windowsill, are the flowers Henhaven has given me. The first ones bloom, showing off their beautiful colors. Perhaps he and I will be like that. Slow to bloom, but more beautiful because of the effort.

Or not. Herring exports. Jet. Coastline gems. Six sisters. Six. Blasted. Sisters.

As I stare into Henhaven’s gray-blue eyes, it’s all I can think about. All around us, others gather and retreat, giving us well-wishes as if this is a trial run for our wedding breakfast, but all I can think about is the conversation he’s peppered me with since we first arrived.

Droll subjects I care nothing for. The problem is, the more I try my hardest to show him interest, the happier he becomes. In truth, he seems absolutely thrilled to tell me, in detail, just how far the fish swim to spawn.

Granted, if I knew there was a hardened man underneath this, an Alpha who enjoyed the darker side of pleasures, I would, no doubt, hang on his every word. But how can I be swayed by fish when that’s all there will be in my life?

As the music starts, Henhaven leads me to the floor, taking the first dance with me as propriety dictates. All around us, people whisper and point, smiling as we do the steps to perfection.

Everyone else is happy. Why not me? I do my best to put on a happy face and join him in conversation between the steps, but inside, I feel as if I’m dying.

Soon enough, it’s over, leaving me to go back to the side as he mills about, speaking to other men about who knows what. The instant I’m alone, Charles is there by my side, asking me for a dance.

If only my dance card were full and I had a good reason to reject him. As a duke, such a rejection would look horrible on me and my family while leaving him unscathed. Just as I agree, the music changes to that of a waltz.

He brings me to the floor, holding me as close as he dares without sparking scandal. His eyes bore into mine as we dance together, our bodies moving as one. Heat climbs my face as the warmth of his hand seeps into me through my gloves.

Close. Too close. I can smell him. I can feel his breath wash across my face. Bollocks, I can almost hear his heartbeat as he draws me in even closer.

From around the room, the conversations strike up once more. This time, they look at us and talk in a far different tone. Even Henhaven watches from the sidelines, his gaze never leaving me.

I feel it bore into my back every time it’s turned. It sears me as I face him again. There is no anger, no condemnation. He doesn’t force me away. He simply watches with curiosity.

If only he’d chastise me, show any sort of jealousy or possession. Something. Anything.

But no. He’s passive, cool, level-headed. Everything he’s supposed to be to avoid any whiff of scandal. He’s everything I’m supposed to want.

Instead, I crave the darkness I feel humming under the surface of Charles’s stern veneer. I crave the way his fingers dig into me with each turn about the room.

Tears blur my vision, but I don’t let them fall. I can’t let the Ton see me as weak. I simply must stay strong until I can pull away and lick my wounds in private.

Soon enough, the number is over, and Charles releases me before going back into the crowd. Did I just imagine his possessive stare? Did I conjure a need and longing where there was not one?

My friends come over to me, all a titter as they hand me some punch. The distraction is most welcome, and I’m sure the rest in attendance breathe a sigh of relief as well, seeing as no outward scandal took place.

“My dear, you’re positively flushed!” Augusta cries. “Is it too warm in here?”

Alessandra smirks. “I believe it is from the heat emanating off of Norhaven that has her in such a state.”

“You cannot say such things,” Emma hisses as she looks over her shoulder to see if anyone is listening in. “She is engaged to another. Such speculation is wrong.”

The voices meld as they talk over one another, arguing in the way that only best friends can. For me, it’s too much. I cannot bear it any longer.