Page 43 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

L aughter and cheers rose up around them as the trio danced round and round the ballroom. Charlotte heard herself laughing, high and loud as she was spun round.

She clutched Isaac’s hand in one of hers and Tommy’s tiny little paw in the other. Isaac was the driving force, lifting both of their feet off the ground at times. Tommy squealed with laughter, and Isaac grinned at the sound, wild and wide.

The music finished with a flourish, and the spinning trio stumbled to a halt. Applause broke out from the guests. When Charlotte glanced around, out of breath and grinning, she saw blurred, smiling faces.

They’ll consider it a fine display, she thought to herself. A fine display of unity. A new family.

Isaac breathed raggedly, but held her gaze only for a minute.

Something warm lingered there, but there was no time to fully take in his expression.

He bent down, swooping Tommy up from the floor, and tossed the little boy into the air.

Tommy squealed with delight, and Isaac held him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

He shows true, genuine affection to the child, Charlotte thought, smiling. So many men don’t bother to do such a thing.

The fun part of the dancing was over, however. Tommy was yawning, and as she watched, Isaac handed him over to Mary, instructing her to take the child to bed.

The serious dancing was about to begin. Couples were taking their places on the dancefloor, and the musicians were tuning up their instruments for a more serious sort of dance.

Isaac turned to Charlotte and lifted his eyebrows, and she realized with a jolt that she was going to have to dance with him.

Well, of course. It’s our wedding, after all.

Isaac extended his hand. Charlotte hesitated only a moment before taking it. An infinitesimal smile twitched at the corner of his lips, then his fingers closed over hers.

He drew her into the center of the room, his palm warmed hers, and her heart pounded hard inside her chest.

“It’s a waltz,” he said, over his shoulder. “It seemed like a suitable first dance.”

Charlotte supposed. Even so, she felt as though she might have preferred something less romantic. A hearty jig, perhaps, or something more sedate, more measured .

Something that would keep her out of Isaac’s arms.

Of course, it was entirely too late.

She turned to face Isaac, who was already looking down at her with a firm stare, his expression not quite readable.

Charlotte inched a little closer, and he placed his hand on the curve between her waist and hip.

She placed her own hand tentatively on his broad shoulder.

Warmth seemed to seep through his clothing from his body, and she shivered, despite the heat of the ballroom.

The music began. Charlotte’s body moved of its own accord, her feet following the steps. Isaac moved evenly and with confidence, and she found herself wondering whether he’d ever had dancing lessons.

No, that didn’t seem right. Isaac was a man who simply knew things, as if he’d been born with the knowledge. One could not imagine him learning them.

The dance picked up speed, and Charlotte found herself breathless. It wasn’t the dance, though. She knew that in her heart.

Isaac’s good eye glinted, sharply blue like the sky on a crisp winter’s day. The eyepatch, she suspected, had been polished for the occasion.

I am married. I am married to him.

His chest was firm, and she had already glimpsed the knotted muscles beneath it. The memory made desire pulse in her gut.

That is dangerous.

His gaze held hers like a magnet, and she didn’t quite dare look away. The world narrowed to just the two of them.

The dance required that she step away, spinning once, twice, three times under his arm. She could feel his stare on her like a physical weight.

It was dangerous, the desire. Charlotte was sure of it. It complicated what should have been an otherwise ordinary situation. It was troublesome.

He had promised, of course, that he would keep his distance from her and her bed once they were married, but what if he chose not to honor that request? Would she object?

In fact, might she want him to break his word?

The music stopped abruptly, and Charlotte almost carried on dancing. She staggered, losing her balance, and might have tripped if it weren’t for Isaac’s firm hand in hers, pulling her upwards and towards him. She thumped against his chest with a tiny oof .

“Careful, there,” Isaac murmured, quiet enough for only her to hear.

Applause broke out, and the other dancers began to laugh and talk. The musicians were preparing for another song. The celebration, of course, had only just begun.

I cannot dance with him again, Charlotte thought, heart thumping.

She felt as though she could not breathe.

Her skin prickled, and she felt as though she were stepping on clouds.

Stepping on clouds would be a surreal experience, with a fabulous view, but how dangerous!

One wrong step could send her tumbling to the ground, to a rude and painful awakening.

Before she could make her escape, however, Isaac gripped her upper arm and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

“Meet me on the first-floor landing in two minutes,” he murmured, his voice low and deep. “If you like, that is.”

Without another word, and without waiting for her to reply, he turned on his heel and strode across the ballroom. In a moment, he was swallowed up by the sheer volume of people, leaving Charlotte feeling as though she had stepped on the wrong cloud and had begun her descent.

She followed, of course.

For a moment, as Charlotte hurried up the stairs, she was sure that Isaac was not there at all. What point his deception would serve, she could not decide, but …

He stepped out of the shadows, seeming taller and broader than usual.

Shivers rolled down Charlotte’s spine. A fluttering sensation gathered in her stomach. Quick as a flash, an image popped into her mind of Isaac, holding her gaze, pressing his forefinger and middle finger against his tongue. Heat sparked down her spine. She swallowed thickly.

“Well, here I am,” she responded coolly. “You told me to meet you here. I am not sure what the secrecy was for.”

He gave a wry smile. “You think that a bride and groom disappearing together, early, on their wedding day, would not attract the wrong kind of attention?”

She sniffed. “That is a fair point.”

He took a step towards her, eyes darkening. “You do not want children. That I can understand. I can promise you that no children will appear if you only trust me, my dear duchess. After all, something must be done. It is our wedding night, after all.”

Charlotte reddened. She swallowed dryly. “Trust you? That seems like a dangerous choice.”

He chuckled. “And here I thought that you were not afraid of me, Charlotte.”

He took a step backwards, pushing open a door which she had not even noticed. As if they were tethered together by a silk ribbon, Charlotte followed.

Behind the door was a long, thin room, a cosy little nook which seemed to have been transformed into a humble storage room. It was untidy, cluttered with trinkets, and in the far corner, a large, heavy-looking bag of what seemed to be full of sand was hanging from the ceiling, secured with a chain.

A single candle burned on the countertop, throwing dancing shadows across the room. A bed was pushed into the corner by a wide, curtainless window, just about large enough for two.

“I sleep here, on occasions,” Isaac said, his voice tight in his throat. “When I am coming home late, and do not wish to wake up the whole house. I can step in the door, walk straight up the stairs, and here I am. I suppose a man is entitled to have more than one bedroom in his own house, eh?”

He pushed the door closed with a bang , and Charlotte shivered. He took a step closer, close enough to press two fingers on the underside of her chin, tilting her face up towards him.

“Perhaps we should have a celebration of our own, duchess,” he murmured. The candlelight flared across his glossy eyepatch. “Unless, of course, you’d rather return to the party downstairs?”

Charlotte swallowed, finding herself unable to tear her gaze from his face and his single, gleaming eye.

“No,” she breathed. “I … I would not.”

He kissed her at once, his lips rough and warm against hers. Charlotte clutched at his broad shoulders, feeling rather like she was drowning. As if she’d plunged through the clouds and found herself in deep, icy water, with no sign of land.

His arms looped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Could he feel her heart thumping against her chest? Surely he could.

Isaac broke the kiss, but gave her no room to breathe.

Before she knew what was going on, he lifted her smoothly off her feet, placing her squarely on the counter.

She wobbled backwards a little, thumping against the wall.

In an instant, Isaac’s arms were around her waist again, hauling her forward.

He leaned against her, resting one palm on the counter beside her hip.

“You have driven me mad, you know,” he breathed, bringing his nose to within inches of hers. She could feel his warm breath on her skin. “You are on my mind, always.”

There was no time for her to respond, because he was kissing her again.

His warm hand landed on her knee, and she shivered.

Lifting her fine dress, Isaac slid his palm underneath her petticoats without ado, fingers dancing upwards.

Charlotte found herself parting her thighs at once, reflexively, and felt Isaac chuckle against her skin.

“Eager,” he breathed. Then his fingertips stroked against the join of her legs, and Charlotte gasped aloud, tilting back her head.

The moment lasted only a matter of seconds. He stroked her once, twice, three times, then pulled back.

Charlotte jolted faintly, eyes flinging open. When had she closed them? It didn’t matter.

Isaac pressed a last kiss to her lips, then straightened up entirely. Charlotte had no time to think of her situation—leaning back, dress unruffled, legs parted in a most shocking manner—before he leaned down, pushing up her skirts further.

He pressed a kiss against the side of her knee, and goosebumps crawled all over Charlotte’s skin.

Surely he was not going to … wasn’t … Charlotte was not sure she could formulate words, even if she tried. Isaac trailed kisses upwards, following the inner curve of her thigh.

When he put his lips against the core of her, Charlotte cried out in surprise, shocks of pleasure shooting through her. Before she knew what she was doing, she had pushed her hand down, threading her fingers through his hair.

His tongue slid against her in a confident and practiced way.

The peak of her pleasure approached in bursts and starts, rushing her onwards.

Charlotte sagged further against the wall, struggling for breath.

He curled one hand around her thigh, fingers digging in and providing a delicious counterpoint to the pleasure building inside her.

She felt, rather than saw, his other hand slide against her, just below where his tongue pressed against her skin. He broke off for an instant, and Charlotte truly thought that she might die.

“You seem fond of this, my dear,” he remarked, as lightly as if he were talking about the weather , of all things. If Charlotte could have summoned her breath, she would have complained.

He kissed the curve of her thigh, just below the join of her legs, and his fingers slipped against her core once more, his forefinger moving inside her.

It was a strange sensation, but before Charlotte could adjust, he replaced his mouth against her, moving with confidence once more, and the pleasure redoubled, so quickly she saw stars.

When her climax came, Charlotte’s fingers reflexively tightened in his hair, her whole body breaking out into shivers.

She felt as though she were floating, clouds passing her by.

Isaac pulled back, his eye glinting in the candlelight, and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth.

While she was still fighting to catch her breath, he dived forward, fitting his lips against hers.

He tasted ever so strange, and it occurred to her, belatedly, that she was tasting herself.

Charlotte could not have managed words, even if she’d had breath. Isaac pulled back, and the light was too bad for her to read his face. Suddenly, she wished that she had more light.

“Now you are truly a duchess indeed,” he murmured.