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She opened her mouth to ask him who the lady was. Her question died in her throat when he turned to her with an intense expression.

" Wife. I think it is time for us to leave" he said stiffly. His eyes shadowed, he might have phrased it like a statement, but it was an order and there was no room for disobedience, not when she could see that he was barely holding on to his composure.

She nodded her head in assent and he led her away from the ballroom as fast as was humanly possible.

Whoever that lady was, she had managed to do something to Anthony that even the scars lining his face could not. She had broken his spirit. She could guess that she was the reason why he had transformed from the cheerful gentleman to a recluse. She truly wished to know who she was and somehow she had a gut feeling she knew her exact relationship to her husband.

ChapterSeventeen

Their journey back to the castle was mostly silent and just a look on the expression on Anthony's face stopped whatever questions she had in her throat and their tension continued even as he helped her down from the carriage and led her to her bedchamber and followed her into the room an intense look on his face.

When he pulled her towards him and covered her mouth in a desperate kiss. Her thoughts scattered. Her last coherent thought was that tomorrow was soon enough to determine the identity of the mysterious woman that had shaken his composure so much.

* * *

Anthony had spent the entire night nursing an arousal that seemed to have become a normal occurrence whenever he was in the presence of his delectable, untouchable wife.

The moment that she stepped down the stairs, he had been convinced that she had dressed for the night, solely to torture him to death.

Her dress had been the daring shade of crimson and her corset was scandalously cut in such a way to draw the eye of a man who was obsessed with her bosom. That man was mostly him and any red blooded man of the ton.

Throughout their stay at the ball, he had seen several men take more than a single glance at her bosom. On one hand he had felt like a king having such a beautiful wife on his arm. He reveled in the looks of envy many of the men there could not conceal.

But on other hand, he had to struggle against the overwhelming urge to do bodily harm to some of the men who looked at her with their lecherous gaze, slobbering all over her perfect skin.

He had been so distracted with the effort of maintaining his self restraint that when he heard the familiar whispers of the gossips that usually trailed him, he had felt only just a passing annoyance, their censure falling second to his internal struggle.

So he had been surprised when she stopped in the middle of the room and retraced her steps to confront the tittering malicious females that seemed to have taken gossip as their primary obligation.

His surprise had gradually transformed to pleasure that warmed his chest and spread to every part of his body thawing the ice that surrounded and protected his heart.

He had to admit that he felt quite nice to have someone defend him for a change and having this warrior queen that was ready to vanquish any enemy that threatened her king in anyway was a gift.

He had to admit that she was magnificent in her anger. The color was high in her cheeks and faster pace of her breathing as she returned to her position beside him only served to increase his arousal till it threatened to consume him whole right there in the middle of the ballroom.

He was fighting the urge to act on the impulse to lift his wife caveman style, to the nearest private space so he could devour her properly. He guessed his decision to abstain from consummating their marriage had allowed for sexual frustration that had finally overwhelmed his iron self control..

He had been saved from that temptation by Lord Banbury. He had not known whether to be angry at the man or to thank him

His old friend knew and had teased him mercilessly about it when his wife was out of earshot. Of course he should have known as nothing went past the astute eyes of the man. One of the man's best qualities that he did not particularly appreciate at that moment.

As their conversation progressed. He looked around the ballroom in search of his wife. His eyes settled on her, her red dress serving as a beacon. She was speaking with Lord Seton. The man she had claimed was her best friend.

She might think so, but he didn't believe that because the way the man stared at her was anything but platonic, the man was besotted with her and he wondered why she couldn't see it.

The man might had been speaking to her, but his eyes kept straying to her bosom and each time his gaze strayed that way, Anthony felt a wave of annoyance flow through his body

Finally he excused himself and approached them when it seemed the man was well on his way to falling into her dress even while his wife stood right beside him.

When the man saw him, he had immediately stepped back his gaze wary. That must have had something to do with the threat of violence he was sure shone from his eyes. Better for him, because if he had continued what he had caught him doing, he might have to returned home with some part of his anatomy permanently rearranged.

Even while he took her to the dance floor. He still could not get the possessive urge that rode his body under control.

He held her tightly to himself as if to bind her to him. He didn't understand why he had decided to deny himself the charms of her body when his body craved her so acutely.

A base part of him seemed to keep reminding him that, she was all his by law and he had a right over her body just as she had that much over him.

The longer they danced, the more he confirmed what he already knew- that the desire that plagued him, plagued her as well and Tonight they would finally let go and allow himself to enjoy the pleasure that could be found in worshipping her body.