Page 26 of The Duke Steals a Bride (Stolen by the Duke #5)

Chapter Twenty-Six

“H old still.”

Edwin’s voice was a whisper, as he gazed down at his wife. Anger was still boiling his blood, thrumming through his veins, making it difficult to focus.

“Let me hold you, little mouse.”

He could feel trembling overtaking her entire body. He knew she was still shocked by his sudden appearance, dragging her away from that fop, whoever he was, with whom she had been dancing.

He hadn’t been intending to do it—but as soon as he had seen her with the gentleman, whispering and laughing together on the dancefloor, he had become livid with rage, and his feet had taken him to them, before he had even realized where he was going.

Nothing else had mattered at that point except that she stop dancing with the fop…and dance with him , instead.

She belongs in my arms.

His eyes bored into hers, before snaking down the length of her body, a frisson of desire rippling through him.

She looked truly exquisite tonight, in a pale pink silk gown with tiny, puffed sleeves and intricate embroidery on the bodice. He could see the entire length of her body through the fabric, the thrust of her breasts, straining for release.

He wanted to rip the bodice away from them now, exposing them to his avid gaze, watching her nipples harden.

He barely breathed as he focused on them, unable to tear his eyes away. They were hardening now beneath the force of his gaze, two peaks of delight. He wanted to dip his head to them, draw one into his mouth slowly, suckling leisurely, while twirling the other with his fingers. He could almost hear her groan.

Stop it, Ironstone. Keep control. You are in a public place.

But he could barely restrain himself. He swallowed, forcing himself to concentrate on the dance, twirling her around the floor. She shuddered in his arms. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. He watched, spellbound, at the hot flush rising up her neck, staining her face.

The music from the orchestra was fading away. So, too, were the other dancers twirling around them. He was vaguely aware that Oliver was still dancing with Lady Ava. Everything was becoming a blur. His hand tightened on her waist, squeezing it, hearing the sharp intake of her breath, as the desire intensified, thickening his blood like molasses.

He felt her slump a little, the fight going out of her, leaning into him. A pang of triumph shot through his veins. She had been avoiding him, ducking him, refusing to be alone with him. And even though he had tried to tell himself it was for the best—that it was what he wanted, goddamnit —it didn’t matter.

The want was becoming an ache. It was becoming an itch. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, it was always there, nagging at him, day and night, causing him to wake up in a hot sweat in the dead of night, more engorged than he had ever been in his life.

He knew he would die if he could not have her. It was as simple as that now.

He pulled her closer, breathing in the sweet scent of her, his eyes fixed upon her own. He saw the answering response within them. The response that she could not deny, no matter how hard she fought against it.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice low, his fingers brushing the back of her neck. “Why?”

She lifted her chin, her defiance clear. “Because it’s cold,” she said sharply, her gaze cutting into him. “What else could it be?”

“Could it be something else?” he asked, his eyes flicking to the pulse in her throat. He barely stopped himself from pressing his lips there. “I think you know what’s making you shake.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of indignation and something else—something far deeper.

“For heaven’s sake, why do you keep doing this?” she whispered, the hurt in her voice undeniable. “One moment you hold me like I matter, like this marriage means something more… and then you pull back, acting like it’s nothing but an arrangement.”

He flinched, feeling the weight of her words settling deep inside him. She was right. It did sound cruel when she put it like that—like he was toying with her emotions, drawing her close just to push her away for his own amusement.

“I never meant to make you feel that way,” he said quietly, his voice rough. “I… I’ve been trying to keep my distance, to keep control. But it’s a lie, Christine. I can’t keep fighting this.”

They stopped moving, the music fading around them as their gazes locked. He still held her hand, his other resting lightly at her waist, but the distance between them felt charged, fragile. He could barely hear the others, the dance forgotten. All he could focus on was her.

“Is this… is this the truth?” she asked, her voice faltering, as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe him.

“It is,” he said, a rough edge to his tone. “I’ve been lying to myself, thinking I could just settle for this ‘convenience.’ But the truth is, I want you. All of you. And I won’t fight it anymore.”

She looked up at him, her face unreadable for a moment before it softened.

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I want you as my wife, not just in name, Christine. I want you—every part of you. And I’ve realized I don’t care about anything else. Not the control, not the distance. Just you.”

Her lips parted, and for a second, he thought she might argue, but then she spoke, her voice quieter than before. “Yes.”

“I think we should leave,” he said.

Christine only nodded. She didn’t need to say more. They both knew it was time to stop pretending.

He felt a surge of exaltation, unlike anything he had felt before, as if he had summited a difficult mountain, and was now seeing the spectacular vista on the other side of it.

He kept her hand in his, leading her from the dance floor, a haze of intense desire swirling around them, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was visible to everyone, like an aura or a halo.

The dancers parted before them. He was vaguely aware that the ton was staring at them, whispering anew, but he didn’t care.

Let them whisper. Let them say anything they goddamn want.

They left the house, waiting for the carriage to arrive, hand in hand. He could barely look at her now. His heart felt hollowed out, ripped open, exposed. The surrender was complete. And now, he simply couldn’t wait for the denouement.

* * *

Christine watched the flickering lights of the house recede as the carriage wheels started turning, leading them down the long driveway, through the tall gates, and onto the narrow road that would bring them back to Ironstone. The night was dark, but a million stars illuminated the way.

She gazed down at their joined hands on the soft upholstery of the seat. Her mind was still spinning rapidly, unable to believe the speed of it—the fact that they had left the ball early…and that he had apologized, confessing he had never meant to play such a game with her. He had been confused and fighting the attraction, believing it was for the best.

She shuddered. Could he really want her?

One part of her wanted to believe it so badly that it had overtaken her caution. She had let him lead her away from the ball, a willing captive. But another part of her still held back, wringing her hands in anguish, telling her that she was surely going to get hurt again. That he would lead her to ecstasy and then abandon her once more.

What price must I pay for such physical delights? Must I pay with my very heart and soul?

It was as if she had spoken the words aloud. He squeezed her hand slowly turning her around, so they were facing each other. She could barely make out his features in the darkness of the carriage. The only sound was the turning of the carriage wheels on the bumpy road and their heavy breathing.

Slowly, he reached out a hand, running it down the side of her face. She closed her eyes in ecstasy, leaning her face into his palm, kissing it. She heard the soft hiss of his breath.

Her eyes flew open as he grabbed her, his lips descending on her own with a force that caused her to fall back on the carriage seat. He climbed on top of her, devouring her mouth with his lips, his tongue probing and prodding. She moaned deep in her throat.

Her eyes half opened, in a daze of delight, feeling him slip a hand beneath her gown, sliding it up, along the entire length of her silk stocking, to the bare flesh of her thigh. She shivered uncontrollably, pressing herself against him, wanting his touch so badly she could barely restrain herself.

She held her breath as she felt his hand climb higher still, sinking into the hot, moist flesh of her most intimate place, caressing it wildly, slipping deeper into her folds, while crooning into her ear. Over and over.

“You’re all mine now, understand, little mouse?”

She nodded as that yearning, longing, sweet sensation was leaping to life within her belly, snaking out to every part of her body, causing her to twitch and jump wildly beneath his touch. She arched her back against his hand, wanting him to plunge deeper inside her, possessed with a desire so strong it was as if a bonfire had ignited within her. Her head tossed to the side, straining against him.

God help me, I am climbing that delirious ladder to heaven once again.

She completely lost sense of time and place. She no longer remembered that she was in a carriage on her way home until the carriage suddenly jolted to a stop, causing her to gasp, rearing back from his hand.

Evidently, neither had he remembered, for he hastily jumped back, pulling down the skirt of her gown, just before the footman opened the carriage door. He was breathing heavily.

Her legs felt wobbly as he held her hand, helping her from the carriage. They didn’t speak for a moment.

Christine gazed at the castle. It was shrouded in darkness—there were only a few candles flickering within the windows. She could just discern the ivy which covered the facade. A solitary owl hooted in the distance.

It no longer looks the same. It is as if I am a different person to the one who left here only an hour ago.

“Ready to surrender to me?” His voice was low, dangerous, threading through the quiet. “You’ve been waiting for this. Waiting for me.”

She held his gaze, her breath catching as her heart raced. The weight of his words settled over her, undeniable.

With a shaky breath, she nodded, the moment heavy with anticipation.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “Take me.”