Page 38 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

I saac’s house was slowly but surely filling up with guests. After returning from the park, he had retreated to the library and hoped that Perling and Mrs. Ribb were taking care of them.

He had almost thought that Charlotte should be taking care of them, too, but then he remembered that she wasn’t yet the Duchess of Arkley.

Isaac’s walk had freshened him up, and now he felt brighter and more energetic.

So, I’m getting married, he thought, settling himself into an armchair before the library fire.

That’s perfectly ordinary. Mine will be an easier marriage than most. I won’t be expected to share the marital bed or produce heirs.

All I will do is go on the way I have been with Tommy, and nothing else in my life will change.

It will be as though she isn’t here.

No matter how firmly he told himself that, he could not make himself believe it. Tristan had retired to his room an hour or so ago, having suggested one last time that Isaac should bed Charlotte to get her off his mind.

“It’ll restore your tranquility,” he’d added, as if Isaac had ever possessed any such thing.

Closing his eyes, Isaac slid down lower in the chair, stretching his feet out towards the fire.

Of course, he hadn’t told Tristan about the incident in the washroom. There were some things that one did not share with one’s friends.

Besides, he knew what Tristan would have said.

“Good God, man,” he’d have said, laughing. “That won’t do. I said bed her. You need something for yourself.”

Isaac had walked out of that washroom aching hard, almost crippled with the weight of his desire.

He’d wanted nothing more than to rush back into the room, tear away that damnable drying sheet, and scoop her into his arms. He would have carried her into the bedroom, laid her down on the bed, and consummated their relationship once and for all.

What was more, he was sure that she would have wanted it. Hadn’t she curved against him, pressing against his hand? He could still recall her soft, breathy moans, half-bitten off pleas for something she did not understand.

She wanted me, he thought dizzily. She wanted my touch. She wanted more .

He had wanted more, too. He remembered sweeping his hand over the swell of her breast, feeling her nipple peak beneath the thin fabric. It would have been so easy to peel away that sheet.

That was something she’d said, her voice rasping in his ear.

“More, Isaac, please.”

Well, he hadn’t given her more. He’d pleasured her then gotten control of himself, hurrying out of the washroom before things could go further.

What a fool I am, he thought wryly. Both of us wanted things to go further, and yet I fled.

Why?

That was the great question. Why had he cut their lovemaking short?

In the past, Isaac had never been bashful or reticent about lovemaking, although the incidents were few and far between.

How was it that he had been in the house with a woman he desired so fiercely for several days, and yet he had managed to keep himself from her in such a decided way?

What am I afraid of?

Jumping to his feet, Isaac paced up and down the room, hoping to calm his thumping heart.

He recalled the last time he had been intimate with a woman.

She was a Parisian, a woman whose name and face he could not recall.

She had been pleasant enough, and they had shared a few enjoyable hours together.

Never once did I feel as though my very skin was on fire. Not like I do with Charlotte. How can that be? That Parisian woman was experienced and enthusiastic, and told me very clearly that she wished to avoid complications. Charlotte is … Well. Charlotte is complicated , to say the least.

None of it made sense. And since Charlotte had told him so plainly that she did not wish to have children, the implication was quite clear that she did not wish to share his bed. He should have put her aside in his head by now.

Why can’t I put her aside? Why can I not get her out of my head?

On impulse, Isaac reached up and tore the eyepatch away. The band tended to grow tight after wearing it all day, digging into his temple. He glanced up, warily, knowing full well that a mirror hung on the wall just opposite him.

Devil by name, Devil by nature, he thought grimly. He was just about to toss the eyepatch across the room and try to massage the headache away when, without warning, the door opened.

Charlotte stepped into the room.

“Forgive me, Isaac, but Perling said you might be here … Oh, heavens,” Charlotte gasped, as Isaac threw himself across the room, one hand clamped to the side of his head.

He scrambled for the eyepatch, hauling it over his head. She noticed, of course.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Charlotte mumbled, averting her gaze. She had not seen his face without the eyepatch, and he had taken care that she should not, but it felt as though she’d barged in on him half-naked.

Again.

Isaac cleared his throat roughly and turned to face her. He felt more confident with the eyepatch back in place, sitting coolly over his eye, the scars running underneath.

“Think nothing of it,” he responded. “The band gives me a headache, that’s all.”

She stood there for a moment, wavering.

“Should I … Should I go? I did not mean to disturb you.”

He flashed her a tight smile. “Think nothing of it. What did you want?”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I was bringing my friend, Madeline, to meet you. She’s probably my closest friend, but she is so very shy.

I think she rather lost her nerve on her way here.

We saw you from the window, you know, and I think she was a little intimidated.

She made an excuse and scurried off to her rooms. I’d already asked Perling where you were, so I thought I should come to find you. ”

“I see,” he managed at last. A silence descended.

She isn’t leaving. Why isn’t she leaving?

“I thought we could spend some time with Tommy,” Charlotte blurted out.

She glanced up, determinedly meeting his eyes.

“I won’t apologize for taking him out on the picnic, but I am sorry that we didn’t invite you to join us.

You should have been part of it. He’s your nephew, too.

I want to tell you about the new words he used with us. ”

Isaac clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. “Thank you. And I suppose I was overly sharp. The plain fact is that as a family, we are under a great deal of scrutiny. One can never know who is watching, and Tommy is a vulnerable child.”

In his mind, he could see Matthew standing behind that tree, with a clear view of the picnic blanket.

He could see Charlotte, Sybella, and Mary cheerfully talking to each other, unaware that they were being watched.

He saw Tommy, flitting around to look at the flowers.

Tension tightened around his throat, a lump forming there.

Not that Matthew posed a danger, of course. Isaac was sure that once he had crawled through the horrific grieving process, he would return to his old self. And when he did, Isaac would be ready to forgive him, if only for Jasper’s sake.

“What do you mean?” Charlotte said, interrupting his thoughts. When he glanced at her, her brow was furrowed in concern. “What dangers do you think Tommy might be exposed to? Surely you cannot imagine that he would be … would be snatched up from a place like Hyde Park?”

“No, no!” Isaac shot back at once. “Heavens, no. I only mean that the world is a dangerous place. If you had a precious jewel, you wouldn’t display it as you walked down the street, would you? That would be foolish. You’d keep it safe.”

“And you mean to say that Tommy is that precious jewel?”

“Of course I do.”

Charlotte nodded slowly, biting her lower lip. “I understand what you mean, Isaac, but you must remember that, after all, a jewel is simply a piece of rock, and Tommy is a living creature with a mind of his own.”

She took a step forward, crossing some of the distance between them, and came to a halt an arm’s reach away from him.

“When we are married,” Charlotte continued, speaking slowly as she was choosing her words with extreme care, “I shall do my best to work alongside you. I think perhaps we have been working against each other until now, and that will do Tommy no good.”

Isaac breathed out slowly, his shoulders slumping. “No, I … I rather think you are right. The truth is, I do not know how to be a parent.”

Charlotte nodded. “Nor do I. I imagine you know all about my family history.”

“I know some of it, since it pertains to Gabriel, a Devil’s greatest rival.”

She gave a wry, brittle smile. “Well, let’s go to my art room. Tommy wanted to do some painting, and he would be glad to see you here.”

Isaac nodded slowly, smiling. Then he realized just what exactly Charlotte had said.

“Wait, what art room?”

She winced. “I might have … commandeered one of the empty rooms for myself.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. “I should expect no less, I suppose.”

Half an hour later, Isaac found himself sprawled out on a rug in one of the unused morning rooms, watching Charlotte and Tommy paint diligently at a pair of canvases. Charlotte’s picture took shape slowly and appeared to be a portrait of some kind.

Tommy’s canvas appeared to be a mess.

After a few moments, he turned to his uncle, beaming, and waved a paintbrush, dripping with paint, towards him.

“I think he wants you to join,” Charlotte said, laughing.

Chuckling, Isaac sat up and shuffled towards his nephew. “There’s a good deal of paint on the floor.”

“Thankfully, it is an art room, and so it doesn’t matter how much paint there is on the floor,” Charlotte responded, laughing.

Tommy was clearly having the time of his life. A wide smile split his face, and he beamed up at Isaac, flashing a paint covered smile.