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“Well deserved though, I think. If anyone here should feel that way, it is you.”

To this, Duncan caught Isabella rolling her eyes at the saccharine nature of his comments. But he also saw her working to suppress her smile, which told him that his excessive compliments had hit the mark perfectly.

It really is that easy. Tell a woman how beautiful she is and watch her melt in your palm like butter on a warm day.

Duncan beamed as he and Isabella made their way into the Mayfield Ball, arm in arm, the very picture of what a perfect marriage should be. No fighting. No bickering. No sense that they were anything but content.

Duncan’s plan had worked perfectly.

Needing a way to diffuse the tension between himself and Isabella, he had taken to being excessively complimentary and damn charming to great effect. The moment he sensed that Isabella was trying to upset him, he pushed down the anger that threatened to consume him and forced himself to say something nice to her instead.

And Isabella fell for it. Every single time.

They seemed to confuse her, setting her off guard, and then leaving her in a state of unsureness such that her efforts toannoy him fizzled and faded as if they had never been. And then, almost always, she would thank him!

What is more, my urge to bed her is nowhere near as aggressive as it had been. Whether or not that is a good thing, however...

“Duncan!” Duncan heard his name called and turned just in time to see his mother coming for him. “There you are!”

“Mother.” Duncan smiled as he pulled his arm free from Isabella and swept toward his mother, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Lovely to see you.”

“When you told me that you were coming, I confess, I thought that you were lying to your poor mother.”

He chuckled. “Isabella convinced me.” He made sure to bring Isabella in to greet his mother. “Does she not look wonderful in this dress.”

“Good evening,” Isabella said politely. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace.”

“As it is you,” Duncan’s mother greeted her, sounding a little suspicious at the greeting. “And looking so...” She pressed her lips together and studied Isabella for a moment. “Buoyant. Compared to how you looked on your wedding day, the change is remarkable.”

“A week makes all the difference,” Duncan said quickly. “And what a week it has been. Is that not right, Isabella?”

Isabella frowned and for a moment, Duncan was certain she was going to say something rude. For no other reason than his mother was the very reason that they were in this mess in the first place, so why not let the woman know it?

His heart beat quickly, almost wanting it.

“I was simply tired,” Isabella said politely. “But your son is right. It has been a... a lovely week to begin our marriage. Better than I might have hoped.”

“Only to improve from here on out,” Duncan was sure to say, even as his stomach sunk “And with a wife that looks as good as this...” He made sure to indicate her dress. “This marriage is turning out to be a blessing. Who would have thought?”

Isabella eyed him suspiciously. “Yes, who would have thought.”

There was one problem inherent in Duncan’s plan. One that, when first marrying Isabella, he wouldn’t have dreamed to be possible. This marriage, for how easy it has seemingly been this past week, was missing something.

Not that Duncan needed to guess what that something was. Oh, he was onlytooaware of that. But that was also dangerous and the exact opposite of what he had told himself he needed in this marriage.

But what was the point of a marriage if it was missing that fire? He had thought that this was what he desired, as the alternative was not only dangerous in how out of control it might risk becoming, but would also reignite memories that Duncan had worked well to suppress – the very reason he had promised never to become that man again.

He told himself he wanted simple and manageable. But the way that he hungered for Isabella to ignore his compliments and snap at him just once, just enough to set him off... it suggested the complete opposite.

“Isabella!” a voice called through the crowd. It was Louisa, waving excitedly for her sister. “Over here!”

Isabella smiled and waved at her sister. Then, she started to go to her, only to stop and turned back to Duncan. “May I be excused?” she asked.

Duncan didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry out in frustration. A week ago, the very thought that she would ask permission, rather than just doing what she wished, was an athame to everything he thought he knew about the woman. Now, she was as meek as a house cat.

“Of course,” Duncan said. “And thank you for asking.”

She smiled and bowed her head and then turned and hurried to greet her sister.