Page 44 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

T hump.

Thump.

Thu-Thump.

Thump.

Charlotte opened her eyes groggily. Her forehead was inches away from a curtainless window pane, through which sunlight was streaming merrily in.

Her first thought was simple.

Did I drink too much champagne last night?

The second thought was more direct.

This isn’t my bed.

Her third thought was followed by a glut of memories and realizations.

I went to bed with Isaac. Well, that is not so shocking, as we are now husband and wife. It also wasn’t traditional bedding, in the usual sense of the word.

The memories came in starts: herself, sitting on the countertop with her legs sprawled and her skirts rucked up to her waist, cool air on her bare legs. Isaac pressing his lips to her lips, to her cheek, neck, her collarbone, her thighs …

A tinge of pleasure came back as she remembered it, and she pressed the crumpled bedsheets against her mouth.

I cannot believe that it happened.

Thump.

Thump.

Thunk-Thump.

The noise came back again, and Charlotte gingerly sat up, the sheets tangled around her. She was in that small, untidy room where Isaac had told her he occasionally spent the night. The candle had long since burned down, but it didn’t matter, since early-morning sunlight flooded the room.

Isaac had been beside her when she fell asleep, she remembered that much. There was a divot in the pillow beside her, and there was just a hint of warmth in the empty stretch of mattress there.

Now, however, he was standing over in the corner by the door, aiming punch after punch at the sandbag hanging in the corner. His back was turned to her, and he was shirtless. As she watched, his muscles rippled with each blow, each carefully controlled punch which made the bag shudder and jerk.

He must be strong, striking it over and over like that.

It occurred to Charlotte that she had no idea what to do next. Perhaps they had had too much wine last night, as they had tumbled into bed directly after she had come down from her high of pleasure.

Before I could even do anything for him, she thought guiltily. She had half expected to wake up and find Isaac gone. Last night, she had been sure that he would walk out and never once look back, like he had that day in the bathtub.

Well, now what? Should I pretend to be asleep before he leaves? No, that is ridiculous.

Sitting up a little straighter, Charlotte cleared her throat timidly.

Abruptly, he stopped punching the bag and glanced over his shoulder. Their gazes did not meet, however.

“I helped you take off your gown last night,” he said, his voice oddly restrained. “You asked me to. It was rather tricky getting you out of it. I suppose I should have suggested we go back to our rooms.”

“I fell asleep almost directly … directly after,” Charlotte managed, somewhat lamely. “I’m sorry to have fallen asleep in your room.”

“It’s quite all right. Think nothing of it.”

He began punching the sandbag again, the muscles about his shoulders tensing.

Charlotte shifted to face him, legs crossed, and considered the situation.

This changes everything, doesn’t it? He must have feelings for me. He would never have done any of that if he didn’t care for me. This isn’t like the bathtub situation, where he only did that because he … Well, I don’t actually know why he did that. Any more than I know why he did this .

“I am sorry that I broke your rule,” Isaac said abruptly. He didn’t turn this time, or slow in his punches. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I’m … I’m not upset,” Charlotte managed.

Taking stock of herself, she was relieved to see that she was still wearing her chemise, at least. Getting back into her wedding gown and all of its myriad petticoats wouldn’t happen without help, and she did not like the idea of padding down the hallways naked or clad in a sheet.

A thought occurred to her, and she swallowed hard.

“Did … Did anybody notice that we were gone?”

“Our absence was noticed eventually, when we did not return,” Isaac continued. “I went downstairs late last night to get a drink, and Perling told me.”

Charlotte flinched.

He went downstairs and talked to Perling? He went downstairs and then returned here and slept beside me?

She cleared her throat.

“You didn’t go back to your own room after, then?”

He stopped punching, but did not turn around.

“I suppose I felt responsible for you. I was afraid you’d wake in the night or in the morning and be confused as to where you were. I’m sorry to have woken you up with my exercise, by the way. I didn’t think about it. I’m used to sparring or practicing in the morning, you see.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It was the morning light that woke me up, not you hitting the punching bag.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her again, and this time their eyes met, just for an instant, before he turned away and resumed his exercise.

“You had better go,” he said bluntly, so bluntly that Charlotte blinked.

This was too much. Drawing the sheet about her, she climbed off the bed and walked across the room, so that she stood level with Isaac. He still managed to keep his gaze on the punching bag, not on her.

“Go? Why?”

“Why do you want to stay?” he shot back.

Charlotte tensed her jaw. “What have I done wrong?”

He stopped punching at that. He wore no boxing gloves, only strips of cloth wound around his hands, carefully wrapped around each of his fingers and over his hands.

“Wrong? You have done nothing wrong,” he responded bluntly. “But if you stay much longer, I won’t be able to properly honor that promise I made to you. As it is, we’ve all but consummated the marriage. My self-control only extends so far.”

There was a brief silence after his. Charlotte blinked, sure that she must have misunderstood.

“You … You desire me?” she managed at last.

Isaac turned slowly, eyes wide, almost incredulous.

“Can you doubt it?” he managed at last, a hint of laughter in his voice. “My dear duchess, you have pushed the very limits of my self-control since almost the first time I met you.”

She stared back at him, heart thumping.

This is good news. I didn’t want love, I made that clear, but my own feelings won’t be denied. If he feels the same, then … then I have done it. I’ve made a match with real affection.

“I see,” she managed at last, her mouth dry. “But I must ask. Every time we have been … intimate, I haven’t reciprocated. Perhaps the fault is mine, but—and forgive me, I’m not very experienced in these matters—but shouldn’t you get something from our intimacy?”

It was an opening, Charlotte decided. He could talk to her frankly about it. She had no idea how to pleasure a man, but it could not be too difficult. If he was willing to tell her what needed to be done, she was more than willing to try.

If only he’d ask .

Instead of turning to her and gathering her up in his arms, Isaac continued punching at the bag, chuckling under his breath.

“Yes, you are very inexperienced. Don’t fret about it. I’m a grown man in control of himself.”

“I don’t understand,” Charlotte responded, before she knew what she was doing.

He sighed. “You have known me for a little while now, Charlotte. You know that I am a man who likes to be in control, above all, of myself. Why would I risk losing it? So, go now before I make another mistake.”

Charlotte swallowed hard, feeling dizzy once more. Surely there was something she could say to make him understand that there really was something between them, something that could become something.

What it might become, she wasn’t sure, but why couldn't they find out together?

The words wouldn’t come. Perhaps later.

“Very well,” Charlotte said aloud, trying in vain to catch his eye. “Well, last night you told me that I was truly a duchess. Shall I celebrate that with a party?”

He glanced at her. “A party?”

“Yes. I shall host my first party as a duchess. Everything is already untidy and ready for entertaining, the ballroom all cleared out, and I believe the musicians are still nearby. We could host a ball. Well, I could host a ball. Oh, not a ball! A masquerade. What do you say?”

He took a step back, eyes on the punching bag, and flexed his hands. Rolling his head between his shoulders—which created a shiver-worthy crack —he clenched his fists once more.

“You are the duchess. You may do as you like.”

“You’ll come, won’t you?”

Charlotte didn’t remember deciding to ask such a thing, but the words were out now, and there was no taking them back.

Isaac glanced her way, just briefly. Their eyes barely met. Charlotte couldn’t help but feel that he was avoiding her.

“Yes, of course,” he responded at last, his voice cool.

Charlotte felt a smile tug at her lips. He was acting strangely, to be sure, but she had broken through to him.

He desires me. He wants to be with me. He cares . And if that is the case, I can make this work. Why shouldn’t we be happy together? I want us to be happy together, I do. I’ve had a glimpse of what could be, and I am determined to make it happen.

“Very well,” he responded. Clutching the bedsheet around her shoulders, she scurried out of the room.

Charlotte’s heart thumped as she made her way down the hallway.

There was no sense in denying her feelings now.

When she saw Isaac, her heart constricted and beat faster.

She acted the fool, thought too much about him, too much about what he thought about her …

oh, it was a mess, a Gordian Knot of a puzzle.

At the heart of it, she was sure, was her stubbornness and his.

But that can be got through, can’t it? That can be managed. We’d be fools to let the prospect of happiness slip away so easily. If I can only convince him, only make him see …

Excitement tightened her throat. She scurried along the hallways, lost in thought. It was only when she turned a corner and came face to face with Mrs. Ribb.

The housekeeper skidded to a halt, looking surprised for possibly the first time in her life. She was carrying a bundle of linens, which she nearly dropped. Her eyes slid down Charlotte’s sheet-clad form, and color rushed into Charlotte's cheeks.

“Shall I fetch you a housecoat, Your Grace? A robe or wrap, perhaps?”

Charlotte cleared her throat, trying to will the blush away.

I am a duchess now, she reminded herself. Mrs. Ribb remembered, see? She called me Your Grace already. I must act like one.

She lifted her chin and tried to act as if she were not scampering about the hallways in a chemise and bedsheet. She remembered too late, disgruntled, that she’d left her wedding dress in Isaac’s room. Well, she would just have to send somebody to fetch it, wouldn’t she?

“No, thank you, Mrs. Ribb,” Charlotte responded, as coolly as she could manage. “My room is just down the hall. Tell me, is Tommy awake yet?”

“Master Tommy? Heavens no!” Mrs. Ribb laughed.

“Not after all that excitement last night. No, no, he fell asleep the instant his head touched the pillows, bless his heart. He’s still sleeping soundly.

Mary thought it would do him good to sleep until he wakes naturally, you know.

I agree, although of course, as the duchess, you’ll now have a good deal of say in how the young master is raised. ”

Charlotte gave a wry smile. “I’m not willing to try wrestling a sleepy toddler out of his bed before he’s ready to leave it, Mrs. Ribb.”

The housekeeper chortled. “Amen to that.”

“I had some news for him, that's all. And … And for you, I suppose.”

Mrs. Ribb lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Charlotte breathed in. “I wanted to host a masquerade tonight.”

“ Tonight ?”

“Yes, Mrs. Ribb. To celebrate my becoming a duchess. It won’t be as large as the wedding party, of course.

I … I suppose I thought it might help me settle into my new role.

And I thought …” Charlotte trailed off, suddenly feeling silly.

What right had she to ask the poor, overtaxed Mrs. Ribb to organize yet another party so soon?

And how silly to imagine that she could win Isaac’s affection for her with a pretty gown and a party!

Charlotte was on the brink of retracting it all and telling Mrs. Ribb not to bother when the housekeeper drew in a deep breath, met her eye, and gave a steely smile.

“It can be done, Your Grace.”

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“Trouble? Why, Your Grace, you are the duchess! There’s been a great deal of talk about you and the duke in the papers—stuff and nonsense, of course, but everybody reads it—and a fine party will set them all right.”

Charlotte blinked, something like a glimmer of hope opening up in her chest.

Mrs. Ribb nodded firmly. “A sudden masquerade, with invitations sent out only hours before the party begins? Select invitations, no less? Why, it’ll send Society tripping over their feet.

And when it’s become known that the party’s a success—and a success it shall be, I can promise you that—they’ll all be scratching each other’s eyes out to get an invite to one of the Duchess of Arkley’s parties.

Now that is a promise.” Mrs. Ribb punctuated this speech with another firm nod, and Charlotte found herself grinning.

“And Tommy will love it, won’t he?” she added.

Mrs. Ribb smiled fondly. “As long as you and his Grace are there, that child will be as happy as anything.”

Isaac hit the punching bag so hard he felt a twinge of pain in one of his hands, a sure warning sign that he had better stop.

Dropping his arms to his sides, he stood there for a moment, gasping for breath. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, tracing tickling paths across his skin.

His mind was full of Charlotte. The way she had looked when he touched her, the way she had pushed herself against him, gasping and desperate for his touch. The way she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her lips smiling against his neck.

The dull throb of arousal returned, coiling and twisting in his stomach, wanting , yearning so badly it made him shake.

Crawling back into bed beside her had been a foolish weakness, one which he should have easily avoided.

He should never have done that, never touched her, never kissed her, never thought of her.

It was her request as well as his! What right had he to ignore it?

Squeezing his eyes closed, he dropped into a crouch, covering his face in his hands.

What am I doing? What have I done? She wants nothing to do with me. Devil by name, Devil by nature. I won’t make her happy. I took advantage of her naivety, her sweetness …

He had to undo this mess. Charlotte deserved more, much more.

I shall tell her at the masquerade tonight that there can be nothing between us, not ever. I can only hope that she will understand.