Page 29 of The Duke’s Scottish Bride (Scottish Duchesses #3)

Chapter Twenty-Four

T hat night, the townhouse was as hushed as the sleeping city itself.

Marion lay in her bed, restless. A common occurrence, which painting could not cure as of late.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep when she was startled by a loud, sudden sound.

It was undeniably a scream. A man’s scream at that, filled with terror and pain.

Marion sat bolt upright. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she threw her covers down.

It came from the adjoining room.

Anselm .

Without thinking, she flung back her covers. Adrenaline surged through her as she flew to her feet. She barely paused to pull on her dressing gown before rushing to the connecting door and throwing it open.

She burst into his dimly lit room. The faint glow from the dying fire illuminated the scene. Anselm thrashed in his oversized, four post bed. He was clearly caught in the throes of a violent nightmare.

She looked on while his face contorted with agony, sweat beaded on his brow, and his cheeks grew red. He murmured incoherently as his hands clawed at the air as if he were fighting a ghost.

“Oh, Anselm!” Marion cried as she rushed to the side of the bed. She reached for him hesitantly.

Do I let him wake on his own? Do I shake him? Aye, I daenae ken how to handle these things, but I cannae stand to watch him suffer so!

“Anselm, wake up! Tis only a dream!” She said as she shook him gently.

He gasped, creating a sharp, choked sound as his eyes snapped open. They were wild and unfocused, glazed with the terror of his dark dream. He stared at her confused. His breathing was ragged and his body trembled.

“Mother…” he rasped. “I… I couldn’t save you… I couldn’t… He was too quick… I…”

His eyes flickered around the room. The delirium still clung to him until he finally remembered where he was. Marion watched him lay back down and dig his hands into the covers as if tethering himself to reality.

“It is all right,” Marion murmured, her voice soft and soothing. She reached out and gently touched his hot forehead. “It wasnae real. Ye are safe. I am here.”

Without another thought, driven by an instinct to comfort, she leaned over him and sat on the corner of the bed.

She reached to hold him and pulled him into her arms. He stiffened for a moment, surprised by the sudden embrace, but then, with an exhale, he collapsed against her.

He rested his head on her shoulder and his arms slowly circled around her waist.

She felt his body tremble against hers. The fluttering was fast at first but then it began to slow. This bodily reaction was a stark contrast to his usual formidable composure, which shocked her. She had no idea that he was this haunted.

She felt the desperate grip of his hands and the weight of his grief on her body. She held him and stroked his rich, dark hair.

“It is all right,” she cooed while stroking his bearded cheek.

He stayed in her arms. His breathing gradually slowed and the tremors in his body subsided. After a long moment, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her. She noted that his eyes were still shadowed, but clear as he released a shaky breath.

“Forgive me,” he rasped. “To show such… weakness. You shouldn’t have witnessed me in this way.”

He tried to pull away fully, surely to put distance between them, to put up his usual barriers but Marion held him fast.

“There is no weakness in grief, Anselm,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm. “Only humanity. Ye lost someone ye loved. There is no shame in that. I ken what that feels like. Ye can trust me.”

Her gaze met his as she bared herself to him, hoping he could see what was inside of her. She was open and willing to look past the formidable Duke.

Her eyes searched his. There was a raw vulnerability between them that made her heart ache.

He leaned in and captured her lips in a slow, tender kiss—less about lust, more about something deeper, something unspoken but utterly understood. In that moment, the walls between them crumbled, and resistance felt impossible.

She responded gently at first. His lips were soft and searching, then they moved with growing urgency as she pressed closer. Their bodies instinctively molded together recognizing a silent admission of the bond they’d long denied.

The kiss deepened and heat flared between them. His tongue slid against hers with confident insistence, and she matched him, swirling and tasting, as the fire built fiercely. His hands tangled in her hair when he tugged her closer and drew her down into the bed.

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned her onto her back. His weight settled over her as his mouth left hers only to trail searing kisses down her jawline, along the delicate curve of her neck, and finally to the swell of her chest. Each kiss ignited a trail of shivers across her trembling skin.

His hand moved to the sash of her robe. His fingers were deft and practiced as he loosened the silk.

The fabric slipped away effortlessly, unveiling the delicate nightgown beneath, and then, the pale expanse of her skin.

His touch was feather-light, tracing the graceful line of her shoulder, down her arm.

Her breath hitched as her own hands instinctively reached up, grazing the top of her breasts which were aching for more. He slid the gown from her shoulders, letting it pool around her waist, before exposing her completely.

His gaze swept over her body. His emerald eyes were dark, smoldering, and utterly consuming.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he whispered in her ear. “And I want you. Desperately.”

His hands—strong, calloused—moved possessively over her breasts, palming them with a hunger that made her pulse quicken. Marion arched instinctively into his touch as a soft, breathy gasp slipped from her lips while his fingers circled and teased her sensitive nipples, setting every nerve alight.

“I had nae idea that this could feel so good,” she whimpered.

“I haven’t even started, wife,” he murmured against her skin as he lowered his mouth to one nipple, capturing the taut bud between his lips and teasing it with expert, deliberate strokes.

He alternated between slow licks, firm sucking, and gentle nips, and each movement sent a ripple of fire through her.

A tight coil of tension twisted deep inside her, building into a delicious ache she could no longer contain.

Her hips lifted and bucked instinctively against him as she was driven by a fierce, urgent need.

“Yes,” she moaned.

He moved with a devastating slowness despite her encouragement, and she knew that the building pleasure would be well worth the wait.

She focused on his breath hot against her skin. His lips tasted and teased every inch of her as he moved away from her breasts to her stomach. She whimpered as she moved her hands to clutch his shoulders and urge him onward.

“Mm, that’s it, little tempest. I love that you’re so eager,” he growled as he placed his hands firmly on her hips. “Tell me what you want, and I shall give it to you.”

“I… I cannae begin to understand what I want,” she whispered.

“Let me show you what I can do for you,” he purred as he pulled her gown down her legs and threw it to the floor. “A taste of all that you can feel, my wife.”

“Please, Anselm,” she begged.

“I know, darling. I cannot resist either,” he grunted. “I need to taste you.”

He shifted lower down her body and his fingers traced a slow, teasing path over her delicate folds.

“You are so ready for me,” he said. His voice was low and rough as he began stroking her with increasing urgency, sliding from one finger to two.

His touch was precise yet unpredictable, both gentle and commanding, and utterly overwhelming. A sharp gasp tore from her throat as pleasure, hot and shattering, took over.

Then, without warning, he lowered his mouth to her most intimate place and inhaled deeply.

Her legs instinctively snapped shut as panic and desire warring within her when she realized what he intended.

“Do not ever be embarrassed with me. Not like this,” he murmured as he pulled her legs apart. “I know you want this and you… you have no idea how badly I want this.”

He sat up suddenly, giving her a clear view of the hard, pulsing length straining against his breeches. Heat burned low within her body, in the places he was trying to touch. That was his… manhood. She knew that much.

She instinctively reached for him, but he caught her wrists gently and raised her hands back above her head. His eyes locked onto hers with a fierce, unyielding command.

“Ah, ah. Tonight is about you, Marion. Now lie back like a good girl and enjoy this,” he said as he lowered himself back down. “I do not want you to think about me. Trust me, I have been dreaming of doing just this for longer than I care to admit.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I’ve wanted to taste you ever since I saw you in my carriage, all trapped in that dreadful wedding gown. Every moment since, I’ve fought to keep my composure, but the restraint has worn thin. Now, I need to know exactly what you taste like. Every inch of you.”

Marion gasped. The need between her legs completely took over and her back found the bed again.

Anselm’s lips traced slow, deliberate kisses along the tender insides of her thighs. His tongue flicked lightly as she shivered in anticipation.

Every gentle touch promised something more, something deeper, and she held her breath as he inched closer to the place where she ached to be touched.

His mouth settled over her folds with a reverence that made her pulse quicken.

The warmth of his breath sent ripples of pleasure through her.

When his lips found her clitoris, the sensation was exquisite.

The touch was soft, teasing, then firmer as he took it between his mouth and sucked with careful patience.

His right hand slipped inside her and his fingers explored with a rhythm both urgent and tender.

Each stroke pushed deeper, sending waves of sensation that she’d never known, stirring something fierce and new within her.

The mingling of his mouth and fingers overwhelmed her senses, making her feel at once fragile and powerful—powerful because she held the power to bring this commanding, controlling man to his knees.

Her body trembled as it poised on the edge of something she could barely name. She felt herself slipping, losing control, but it was a surrender unlike any other, one that left her feeling luminous, like a goddess awakening in the hands of the only man who could see her completely.

“I feel like I’m goin’ to faint,” she moaned as the feeling grew. Her eyes dark as if there were stars glittering past them.

“I must be doing a good job,” he said. “Let go for me, Marion. I want to feel you release on my hand. Be a good girl and do that for me.”

“But I daenae ken how?—”

“I need this just as much as you do. Give it to me, Marion,” he commanded, and she cried out as she felt herself ripple with pleasure.

It surged from deep within her, radiating outward like an electric current to the tips of her toes. Her body clenched and convulsed, caught in a relentless wave that left her breathless and trembling, utterly spent, yet profoundly alive.

Anselm moved beside her, gathering her gently into his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his breath warm against her skin.

“Just breathe,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I have you now.”

His lips brushed her hair. It was a soft, comforting touch that made her feel safe. The world outside the room—the ton, the scandals, the duties, and even their families—all faded into insignificance.

Marion closed her eyes. She was content to lie wrapped in his warmth, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Yet, something pulled at her. She worried that he would tire of her, that the usual harshness of the Duke would return and she would be cast out.

No, she could not stand that. She would leave on her own terms.

“I should go back to me quarters,” Marion started as she tried to get up, only to be pulled down into the bed. “I… I daenae…”

“No.”

“What do ye mean?”

“You are my wife, and you belong here in my bed. Now I am exhausted. Let us sleep. We can find time to argue in the morning,” he joked as he pulled her closer to him.

“Oh. Very well,” she whispered. “Goodnight, husband.”

She looked at the fireplace a few feet away and watched the embers cool to a beautiful amber hue. She breathed slowly as she felt her rhythm return to its normal cadence, and Anselm’s breathing kept time with her own as she truly relaxed.

She looked out the window then up at the stars, thinking back to the sleepless nights she spent just the next room over while dreaming of him.

Now she knew her wildest dreams and fantasies could not hold a candle to all that would be in store for her in this bed.

I daenae ken what will come next, she thought to herself. But aye, I am ready.