Page 35 of Bound By the Duke

Aurelia batted her lashes. “Sir Whiskerton is not a stray,” she corrected lightly in an attempt at humor.

But Percival wasn’t having any of it. If anything, his jaw tensed, before he took one final step closer. “You are my wife, and your sole purpose here is to focus on your duties.”

There was something controlling in the way he spoke, the way he warned her not to cross his boundaries. She was supposed to be scared by him, but somehow, his words only stoked her recklessness.

It was something dangerous and deeply feminine. Something that pushed her to test every ounce of his control and make him discard his own rules.

“Then perhaps”—she pushed off the wall and leaned closer— “you ought to tell me what those duties are. Unless you would prefer I… discover them myself.”

What followed happened too fast. His breath had caught, and then he had sworn under his breath. That was the only warning she had.

The next second, he was on her. Not his hands or his arms, but those provocative lips of his.

His mouth crashed into hers, as if the storm outside had finally found its way in. His kiss wasn’t gentle, nor was it slow.

It felt like an ache and a withheld passion poured into a press of the lips.

Aurelia gasped into it. It was unexpected and happening too fast.

He pulled her toward him before dropping his hand to her waist, pressing her against him with a force that made her knees go weak.

But then the weakness turned into an emotion so powerful that Aurelia couldn’t contain herself anymore. She clutched his coat without thinking, her fingers meeting the soft wool with desperation.

Her lips parted, answering him, matching him, chasing something in the heat he offered like a woman starved.

There was no space left between them now. Only heat. Only breath and hunger, and the roar of her heartbeat in her ears.

When Aurelia thought he was about to drive her completely mad, he broke the kiss, most abruptly and violently.

Percival tore himself away like he had been burned and staggered back a single step. His blue eyes were wild, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

This was the first time she’d seen him lose his composure.

He didn’t look at her. He didn’t speak either, instead falling back into his usual quietness.

Then, without a word, he turned away, one hand dragging across his mouth as though he was trying to erase the taste of her.

Or perhaps memorize it.

Meanwhile, Aurelia stood frozen. Her face was flushed, her lips were tingling, and her heart? It was still hammering, caught in the moment that had already ended.

Percival paused for a moment, still turned away from her. “Get some rest, wife.” His voice was hoarse.

Aurelia didn’t say anything. She couldn’t.

Without a backward glance, Percival walked away from her. She stood there, breathless, trembling, still ruined by the ghost of his kiss.

And what was worse? It had only just begun.

God help me.

CHAPTER 11

Aurelia’s night had been long, far too long as she had lain awake, trying to recover from what had transpired between her and her husband. Her heart would not stop thudding, and her lips still tingled from the kiss that had stolen every ounce of her reason. The hardest part of that memory was his voice afterward.

“Get some rest, wife.”

The words he had uttered in the coldest and calculating way had been enough to jolt her back to reality. Wife, not woman. Not Aurelia. Just a wife whose purpose had been explained to her before their marriage.