Page 46
Story: His Unwanted Duchess
The butler bowed and backed out of the room, leaving Beatrice alone.
The first thing she noticed was that the room was cold, the hearth empty. There was firewood in the basket beside the grate, but she couldn’t bring herself to consider kindling a fire or even summoning a servant to do so.
She was obliged to ring for a servant to help her out of her wedding gown. The wretched laces at the back simply would not cooperate—not that she could reach them anyway. She managedto get the top half of the laces undone, and some of the buttons, so that the dress began to slip off her shoulders, but she could notreach the rest of it for the life of her.
The door creaked open. Beatrice, her back turned, let out a sigh of relief. “Thank heavens you’re here. That was quick. Can you unlace me? I’m sure this gown is trying to strangle me.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Beatrice heard theclickof something being set down, and footsteps approached. She expected the maid to say something, or otherwise announce herself, but there was only silence.
Beatrice gave up twisting around to undo her gown, letting her arms fall to her sides with a sigh.
Warm fingers ghosted down her bare skin quite without a warning, making her jump. She just had time to wonder what maid had such large, smooth hands before a deep voice spoke behind her, making her flinch.
And worse yet, sending a spike of desire to her gut.
“Breaking my rules already, Duchess?”
She made to spin around, but Stephen’s fingers were already on the laces, keeping her facing forward.
“You!” she spluttered. “I rang for a servant.”
“And instead you got a duke. Todayisyour lucky day.”
She twisted, half considering yanking herself free. The ghost of his fingers still tickled along her shoulders. He had touched her deliberately, she knew it. A flush bloomed on her chest, and she self-consciously pressed her gown against her bosom, let it sag and dip.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to bring you a tray of food. Somebody mentioned that you hadn’t eaten much all day, and I happened to be in the kitchen on my way out.”
“On your way out?” Beatrice repeated, clutching her dress tighter as the laces at the back loosened. “Where are you going?”
“Oh, I’m sure we’re beyond such questions, my dear,” he responded smoothly, and she could almosthearthe infuriating smirk on his face.
He undid the laces and buttons easily and quickly, until the gown was entirely undone, revealing all of her back. She spun around, eyeing him warily, dress clutched to her front.
He regarded her, as cool and impassive as ever. In contrast, Beatrice was flushed and sticky, her heart hammering, her skin tingling. After that first touch, it seemed that the Duke had taken pains not to touch her, only the occasional brush of his fingertips here and there.
It was uncomfortable in the strangest way. Agoodsort of uncomfortable, where Beatrice knew full well the feeling ought to recede, that it wasnotwhat proper ladies felt, and yet… and yet… And yet here it was. Here she was, seething with something that appeared to be a mix of anger and desire—a potent mix that had her shivering on her feet.
She glanced briefly over at the dressing table and saw that, true to his word, he had indeed brought up a tray of food.
“Anything else, Duchess?” he said, flashing that infuriating grin.
She sucked in a breath.
I want you to stay.
She couldn’t say that. Of course not.
“Nothing I can think of,” she managed, sincesomereply was required.
His grin only widened, and he executed a quick, mocking bow. “Goodnight then, wife.”
And just like that, he swept out, leaving the room emptier than before, a faint smell of cologne hanging in the air.
Alone again, Beatrice hastily discarded her gown, changed into her nightdress, and crawled into bed.
Immediately, she realized that her silly, little fantasies of her and Stephen sharing a bed, shoulder to shoulder, were nonsense. The bed was huge, at least two or three times the size of her bed back home. She might have shared a bed with half a dozen people and never noticed.
Table of Contents
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