Page 32
“Besides that,” she said, “I must demand that I sleep in your bed.”
His jaw dropped. He blinked. For that moment, he looked like a boy, carefree and surprised, perhaps even full of wonder. It made him look so young, despite the lock of white hair at his temple.
“Pardon me?” he demanded.
“I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to sleep since I arrived here.”
“Why not?”
“My whole life, I slept with my sisters. It seems I’m incapable of sleeping alone.”
He licked his lower lip and bit it.
“And in addition,” she said, “I’d like you to have dinner with me. It’s been very, very lonely.”
“Dinner?” he barked, his eyes widening now.
“Yes,” she said and smiled despite his roaring and the anger she could see in him. “Dinner. That is what a family does. They share meals together.”
“We are not a family,” he growled.
“Clearly not,” she scoffed. “I’m so very lonely here! I have no friends, no one to talk to. I’m not allowed to leave my quarters. I’m not allowed to have contact with my own husband! And you won’t even let me go to the garden! I brought some of my roses from home, and now they’re slowly dying in the mews. They’re still bundled up when they should be planted in their new soil, growing in their new home.”
He gently placed the candle upon the sideboard and became unnervingly calm, and a chill ran through her. Very slowly, step by step, he walked towards her, holding her in his dark sapphire gaze.
Perhaps she had made a mistake after all. A much bigger mistake than barging into the room of a man who had a beast guarding him who was ready to devour even his wife.
The duke appeared far more lethal than any hellhound, older and dangerously enigmatic, with secrets lurking behind his eyes—secrets she was certain she wouldn’t like at all.
He advanced towards her until he stood so close she could smell the clean, masculine scent of his skin. A warm sensation grew at the bottom of her stomach, and she ached for him to stand even closer.
“My dear girl,” he murmured, distant thunder crackling in his voice. “You’re in no position to make demands. You disobeyed me. You broke the rules. I warned you there would be consequences. You leave me no choice but to punish you.”
11
“Punish?” she whispered, and by God even that whisper on her lips sounded so delicious he ached to kiss it away.
Dorian stared at his beautiful, fragile wife, the candle illuminating her curves, which even a dressing gown and a night shirt could not hide. Never in his life had he imagined he’d wake up to his dog barking his head off, going mad at an intruder…
Who turned out to be a creature of curves and golden locks and perfect skin and wide, innocent eyes, and pink lips… Lips the taste of which he’d never forget as long as he lived.
And yet, this gorgeous little thing was unhappy?
He’d never considered she might be unhappy. Wouldn’t anyone coming from her poor circumstances be grateful for a home where she no longer had to worry about food, a place where she would be safe and protected? He had rescued her family, done them a favor, and improved her station in life, her fortune, and those of her sisters.
He hadn’t imagined that he had actually made her less happy—by the sound of it, quite miserable, in truth. She couldn’t sleep, for God’s sake.
And what were these demands about the garden? Why was it so important to her to go to that terrible place he’d contemplated burning to the ground?
But as he stared at her now, he could see that she did have dark circles under her eyes, and that the blush he’d seen at the soirée was much less prominent.
“Punish,” he said when he could feel her lush body against his own, smell her rose scent tickling his nostrils.
Having a female here at all was new and strange. He’d never brought his lovers to the manor. The only females who entered his bedchamber were the maids and Mrs. Knight.
And now, his wife.
He swallowed hard, imagining her bent over his knee, her behind stuck in the air, bare flesh firm and rosy against his light slaps as she squirmed in pleasure.
