Page 7 of The Duke’s Defiant Angel (Dukes Gone Dirty #1)

7

R aff was in the library when the cloudy sky finally opened, letting out a torrent of rain as it had been promising to do all morning.

Well, this was just wonderful.

He kicked his feet up onto the edge of the settee as he tried to focus on the book in his hand. It wasn’t working.

He was restless and had been all day.

After a night spent lying awake trying not to think about his tempting bride and her delicious body in the other room, he’d come downstairs to find her. Everywhere he turned, he kept running into her.

She was never alone. It seemed his household staff was just as smitten with his new bride as he’d been that first night he’d met her. His housekeeper had been fussing over her at the breakfast table, and then the butler had been lecturing her about the history of the estate, and then he’d found her with a maid, who was explaining what exactly she did for his house.

During each interaction, Evangeline had been the picture of kindness and propriety. The perfect duchess, just as he’d known she would be.

He scoffed aloud as he reached for his snifter of brandy.

Oh, yes, he’d guessed correctly that she’d play the part of duchess well. He just hadn’t understood that her prim and proper young lady routine was all a facade. Beneath that she was—well, she was still a sweetheart, he suspected. Innocent, sheltered, and too romantic for her own good, perhaps. But from what he’d seen today, she was also kindhearted and gentle.

To everyone but him.

No, he was the only one to see that fiery temper she hid so well.

He frowned down at the contents of the glass as his cock stirred to life all over again. His jaw clenched. One would think a man would stop being so bloody attracted to a woman after she all but accused him of kidnapping her and ruining her life.

But instead, that fire in her had lit one of his own, and he couldn’t stop picturing her face as she’d lain below him, her perfect face aglow from the light of the fire and her eyes flickering with life.

With passion .

He swallowed hard as he adjusted himself. And the way she’d writhed beneath him. The way she’d kissed him back, unskilled but fervent. Almost desperate. Those sweet little whimpers and gasps…

He could imagine far too well just what it would be like to take her.

And that was precisely why he’d made that bargain with her. If she wanted to be the one in his bed, he knew without a doubt that she’d more than satisfy him.

In fact, he had a suspicion that once he tasted her sweet virgin body, he’d be ruined for all others.

Hell. He dropped his head back. That was a depressing thought.

“Oh. Pardon me.” That soft voice that had been haunting his thoughts all day had him lifting his head with a jerk to find Evangeline hovering just inside the library’s doorway.

She lifted her skirts to turn back around, her head dipping to avoid his gaze. “I did not realize you were in here. I would not wish to disturb you.”

“Wait.”

She stilled.

He swallowed. It wasn’t as though he’d actively been steering clear of Evangeline today. It was just that the sight of her was sheer torment. He was supposed to be fucking her senseless during this respite from London. He was supposed to be siring an heir while relieving this absurd desire that had kept him in its clutches since the moment he’d seen her descending the staircase at her parents’ ball.

And yet, here he was. Hard as wood, his ballocks aching for relief. And all because he was too bloody noble to just go ahead and take what was his.

She stood there for an age, silent as he was, as they regarded one another.

This was ridiculous. They were meant to spend their lives together. They couldn’t avoid each other forever. And besides, if he meant to make her beg for it, he’d need another opportunity to get close.

Leaning forward, he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Come,” he said, gesturing to the seat beside him before the fire. “Join me.”

“Oh, that’s quite all right, I’ll just?—”

“Angel, this house is monstrously large and ridiculously old. Which means just about every room is drafty at this time of year.” He nodded toward the window where rain pelted the glass. “Add in this weather, and you’re guaranteed to freeze if you’re anywhere but here.”

He nodded toward the roaring fire warming the small, cozy room.

“Very well,” she said softly, stepping past him to perch her perfect little bottom on the seat beside him.

And then she went quiet, her gaze dropping to her hands.

She was gorgeous. Her hair was piled atop her head like some silken crown, a few soft tendrils framing her heart-shaped face and drawing his gaze to her long, slender neck.

Once more, she looked like an angel. His angel. The woman he’d thought he was marrying.

Her silence grated at him. She’d had no trouble speaking the night before. In fact, she’d been just fine throwing out accusations and standing up to him in a way no one ever had before, aside from his closest friends.

He winced at the mere thought of what Hayden, Benedict, and Malcolm would say if they knew that he hadn’t managed to bed his own wife on his wedding night. He’d never hear the end of it.

He tapped his fingers against the front of his book as he watched her. Her words from the night before kept coming back to him. Two phrases in particular.

You don’t know me at all.

That one stuck in his craw because…

Well, because she was right. He’d been wrong. He’d thought he’d had her pegged, but he hadn’t bothered to look beyond the perfect face and heavenly body.

You will never have my heart. That belongs to another.

That one had his muscles tensing with fury even now. He wasn’t one to share. Not anything. Certainly not his wife. And while he did not think her so stupid as to try and cuckold him—she likely wouldn’t have told him about the other man if she’d had plans of sneaking off to see her beloved—the fact that she was pining for another man while wearing his ring had his jaw clenched tight.

“Did Mrs. Harper give you a tour of the estate?” he asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she said quickly. Her demeanor was once more that of the dutiful little darling.

What an odd little riddle he’d gotten himself with this one.

“And are your rooms to your liking?” he continued. Even he could hear the impatience that edged his voice, much as he tried to stifle it.

“Indeed, Your Grace.”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that,” he bit out through clenched teeth.

It was one thing to have a wife who despised him. It was quite another to have a wife who treated him like he was nothing more than his title.

“My apologies, Your—er, William.”

He winced, and he was fairly certain she did as well. His first name sounded awkward coming from her. Probably because he’d forced her into this new intimacy.

Bloody hell, he couldn’t seem to stop making a mess of this entire situation.

He scratched at his jaw as he tried to figure out how to salvage this. “So, which is it then?” he asked suddenly.

Her head came up with a start. “Pardon me?”

Such sweet, guileless eyes. He met her gaze evenly. “Which is it today? Are you the meek, obedient, easily intimidated young lady I met at the ball, or are you the fiery avenging angel I had the pleasure of kissing last night?”

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks went scarlet. “I-I—” She swallowed. “I was never intimidated.”

It was so not at all the response he’d expected, and he shocked them both with a loud bark of laughter.

Her lips twitched with an uncertain smile in return.

“You weren’t intimidated,” he said, leaning forward. “Then why couldn’t you meet my eyes or say more than two words at a time?”

She wet her lips as she gave a delicate shrug. “I wasn’t intimidated, just shy.”

“Shy.” The word sounded strange on his tongue. His brows drew together. “Truly?”

She nodded, her gaze dropping once more. “Yes, Your Grace.”

He sighed.

She flinched.

He sank back with another loud exhale.

“I don't enjoy being the center of attention, and I've never been terribly good at speaking to anyone outside of my family.”

He regarded her for a long moment. She was telling the truth, that much was clear. “You seemed to do just fine last night.”

Her cheeks turned impossibly red as she dipped her head. “I was emotional, Your Grace.”

“You were angry,” he amended.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He couldn’t stop staring at her profile, even though he knew quite well it made her uncomfortable. But he had this notion that he was only now starting to really see her.

And he wanted to see all of her.

She was his wife, after all. He ought to know who he’d married.

She kept her head dipped down, but her fingers fidgeted with her skirts, the only telltale sign of her discomfort. “Your Grace, you should know… That is… I will do my duties as a duchess to the best of my abilities. But when it comes to entertaining…” Her throat worked as she swallowed.

For a moment, he actually pitied her. The fear that flickered across her features was more pronounced now than when she’d thought he was going to ravish her the night before.

“I will do my best,” she finally finished.

“Well, fortunately for you, I don’t enjoy entertaining,” he said.

Her gaze lifted, and her blue eyes sparkled with hope. “Truly?”

He gave a short grunt of acknowledgment. Not really. He enjoyed throwing parties for his friends. But those parties were hardly the sort he’d expect any wife to condone, let alone partake in.

But he was pleased to see that his answer had her shoulders sinking with relief.

“Was that why you did not wish to be a duchess?” he asked. “You ought to have told me.”

“You ought to have asked,” she shot back.

Her head dipped again, and she caught her lower lip between her teeth.

He chuckled. “Do you know, I think I prefer this feisty little angel to that docile girl I thought I’d married.”

“You do?” She sounded so shocked it made his heart do an odd sort of contraction in his chest.

“You didn’t answer,” he said. “Were the responsibilities of a duchess what made you so vehemently opposed to marriage?”

Or was it me?

The thought didn’t sit well. No one had ever rejected him before. It left him with questions and more than a little confusion.

She looked away. “That was part of it.”

He knew instantly what she meant, and his gut gave a sharp tug. “Ah, yes, the one who holds your heart,” he said blandly.

He watched those perfect tits rise and fall as she took a deep breath. Now that he knew how perfect they felt in his hands, it was painful to sit here with his hands at his sides.

Her silence was another form of torture. He didn’t want to witness her pining for another.

“Did he ever fuck you?” he asked.

Her head whipped around as she gasped. “Of course not,” she said, so prim and proper, it had a laugh threatening to rise up in him. “I already told you that. Do you doubt my virtue?”

He shook his head, but he had to swallow a laugh before he could murmur, “Of course not. My apologies.”

“And that language, Your Grace,” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken, a huff of indignation in her voice.

Such a prudish little thing. Except for when she was arching up, silently begging him for more. He grinned at the memory of her hands in his hair, clutching him to her tits as he’d teased those taut little nipples.

That fiery, wanton lady was nowhere to be seen just now. She was sitting with her back straight and her knees pressed together, her hands clasped tight. “I do not wish to speak of him, Your Grace. I have said my vows before God, and while I will always have affection for him, I am married to you now. I understand that.”

Her words were meant to reassure him, and yet they left him even more restless, and the taste on his tongue was decidedly bitter. She would resign herself to being with him instead of the man she truly wanted. That was what she meant.

But she hadn’t been thinking of anyone but Raff last night. The thought was mildly comforting.

She hadn’t wanted anyone but him.

Evangeline shifted restlessly. “I should go back to my rooms, Your Grace?—”

“You’ll stay,” he said, his tone too curt. He inhaled deeply and softened his voice. “And I do wish you'd stop calling me Your Grace. You don’t have to call me William, if that is too intimate, but don’t call me by my title. Please.”

He couldn’t quite meet her curious gaze. It was too depressing by far to have his wife call him that. He couldn’t explain why. This house had never been a home, and he’d never had a family—not even when his parents were alive—but he supposed some part of him had thought that taking a wife would change that, at least to some extent.

Having her here in this cold, unwelcoming house that felt like a foreign residence, hearing her call him by his title was just...it was just wrong . He wearily rubbed his gritty eyes and sighed. “Anything else but that, Angel.”

A long pause followed, and he felt her studying him as he’d done to her.

“Very well… Devil .” Her sly glance in his direction turned his chuckle into a loud laugh.

“Ah,” he said, still grinning. “So you do have a sense of humor, after all.”

She didn’t respond, but he saw her lips curve up in a reluctant smile. It was small, and it was wary, and it was so beautiful, he ached to see more of her smiles. He wanted to see what her eyes looked like when they were lit with joy, not anger.

“You were right,” he said, so suddenly, her eyes widened in shock.

She blinked. “About?”

He cleared his throat and glanced away. “I ought to have taken the time to get to know you. I should have taken your wishes into consideration.” It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her why he hadn’t believed her father. But much as his pride wished to rationalize his actions, he didn’t wish to upset her.

He also couldn’t bring himself to apologize. Mainly because he was a duke. He did not apologize. Also, because…truthfully, he wasn’t entirely certain he’d done her wrong.

He might have gone about it badly, but he had to believe she was better off with him than a father who cared more about money than his own daughter. He might know nothing about family, but he did know he would never treat her so poorly.

That had to count for something.

After a long silence, she turned to him with a serious gaze that made him tense. “We are here now. We might as well make the best of it.”

He arched a brow at her resigned, morose tone. “That's the spirit,” he teased.

He was rewarded with another twitch of those lush lips.

One of these days, maybe he’d make her smile.

Did her lover make her smile?

He shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t his concern. He didn’t need her heart. But if he didn’t get inside her body sometime in the very near future, he might go mad.

He shifted now, trying to get comfortable despite the rigid erection between his legs.

“Tell me, Angel, what would you typically do if you were trapped inside on a rainy day at home?”

She looked around them at the bookshelves that lined the room. “Read, I suppose.”

“Right. Pretend in this scenario you are stuck inside with a gentleman who’s tired of reading and who wishes to be entertained,” he said.

She laughed softly. “In this hypothetical situation, are we at the gentleman’s home?”

“House,” he said. “Not home. I rarely come here, to be honest. I’d thought you’d might want to see it since it’s now under your care.”

He tried to keep his voice level, but her gaze was far too intent. “You don’t enjoy the country?”

He looked away. He liked the country just fine. Just not the silence that came with it. The only times he came here were when he could convince his friends to join him. But more often than not, he was either in town or at one of their estates.

He never did answer, and instead turned it back on her. “We can head back earlier than planned if you’d like. I wouldn’t wish for you to be bored?—”

“I won’t be bored,” she said quickly. With a small, tentative smile, she added, “I prefer the country. Always have.”

“Ah.” His lungs stopped working as his gaze caught on the sweet curve of her lips.

“But if you are not content here?—”

“No, no,” he said with a dismissive wave. “I can find ways to occupy myself.” He couldn’t resist flashing her a rakish smile. “I’ll admit, most of the activities I’d planned for this trip have been put on hold for the moment.”

Her brows drew together in confusion, and then, when he let his gaze roam over her breasts and down to her thighs, he glanced up to see she’d turned pink again.

“Oh,” she said.

He chuckled as he adopted his most pompous tone. “This means, of course, that my wife must now find ways to entertain me.”

She arched a brow. “Must she?”

“Mmm. She said so in her vows, before God and her family.”

Her lips were twitching again, and then an adorable little giggle escaped. “I must have missed that part in the vows.”

“Don’t worry, Angel.” He leaned forward, tapping a finger to his temple. “I remember everything you promised.”

“Do you?” She sounded breathless.

Good. That was good. It meant she felt it, too, this stirring of desire that seemed to wrap around them the closer he drew.

“And I remember my promises, as well,” he said.

Her eyes flared for a moment, and he knew she was remembering, too. He’d vowed to make her beg.

And by God, he’d see that promise through.