Page 17 of The Duke’s Second Bride (Regency Second Chances #4)
“I …” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I apologize. I did not mean to pry. You must understand, I have always dealt with the finances of my home, and this past year …”
“What?”
She sighed. “Anything my brother-in-law kept from me was later used as leverage.”
His heart softened at that. Of course, she would be keen to know what was going on in the household.
She quickly shook that softening of the room, however, by taking a deep breath and stepping in closer.
“And I am here because it is our wedding night,” she said.
This past part was delivered with such bluntness that Christian wondered if he was actually sleeping and if this was all some twisted half-dream-half-nightmare.
A dream because—well, just look at her. She was perfectly fit for ravishing, his beautiful wife, her honey-blonde hair tumbling down about her shoulders, the candlelight glinting in those soft hazel eyes.
Yet her demeanor, her tone, her expression—all business. He wanted her badly, but not like this.
He cleared his throat, trying to appear steady despite the pounding of his heart.
“I believe our agreement was quite clear,” he said. “And I intend to stick to it—a marriage of convenience. You are here to help care for my son. Nothing more than that.”
Ava scoffed. “You cannot expect me to believe that.”
“I am not like your former brother-in-law,” he said.
Ava frowned, her brow furrowed deeply. “I never said you were.”
“And yet you presume that I would—” Christian cleared his throat, “that we?—”
“We are married.”
“We are in an arrangement,” he said, this last part with great difficulty.
Good God, she was trying his patience.
“An arrangement you yourself suggested,” Ava stared at him. “At dinner, you said I should ready myself for bed.”
The line of her breasts swelled above the neckline of her gown, threatening to spill over with every incensed breath she took.
The back of his neck warmed as he realized. Sitting at the table, he hadn’t known she was imagining going to bed with him.
“My meaning was quite exact. There was nothing beneath it,” he said, trying his best to restrain himself.
An expression he could not read washed over Ava’s face.
“Do you …” She cleared her throat. “You’ve heard the rumors, I assume. About William and me.”
The sound of her late husband’s name on her lips, rather than his own, sent a pang of jealousy crashing through Christian’s chest.
“Yes,” he said tightly. “I have.”
She nodded, swallowing. Her eyes glinted. Were those tears beginning to well up in them?
“Of course.” Her jaw stiffened. “Of course. Have they made me repulsive to you, then?”
Good lord, how could she think that even for a moment was beyond him.
“Repulsive?” he repeated in utter confusion.
“Yes,” she said, as though she could not imagine any other plausible answer.
He stepped closer, too close, and felt the heat of her body against his. God. She had no idea.
“No,” he ground out, “It is because I cannot stand … being near you without losing control. I cannot risk it.”
Her breath caught. He could see it. It did something to him, something dangerous.
“Do you think I am a fool?” he continued, voice rough. “That I would let rumors dictate how I regard you?”
He let his hand brush against her waist, just enough to make her aware of him, his intent, the danger simmering behind his control.
“I have avoided you, wife,” he said, each word measured, heavy, “because you set my blood on fire. And if I unleash what burns in me…” His jaw clenched. “I’ll take more than you can bear.”
Ava’s lips parted, and she bit them.
Something inside him snapped. All restraint, every careful inch of control he had been clinging to, was shattered in an instant. He could not endure the sight of her in that thin linen nightgown, the warmth of her near him, the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Not another second.
He rushed forward, crossing the room in a few long, purposeful strides, and kissed her.
Her lips were soft beneath his as he had imagined. No, softer by far, and warm. Her arms raised up, but rather than pushing him away, she pulled him in closer, closer, until she was on her tiptoes and he bent down with her arms around his neck as they kissed.
It was such a relief. He had not realized until now just how deep his need went. He had not realized the strength of his desperation until the thirst was quenched. And yet, somehow, it wasn’t quenched at all, because having her like this only made him want her more.
Suddenly, he realized what he was doing. He was kissing her. Seconds after he had assured her he didn’t want anything like that from her. The realization was like a bucket of ice water over his head. He broke the kiss with great suddenness, stumbling a step backwards.
Ava looked up at him, confused. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.
He found himself needing to catch his breath, too. Her cheeks were pinker, rosier than usual, and the nightgown allowed him to see how the flush spread down further, down her neck and to her décolletage, to her cleavage.
No .
He averted his eyes, forcing himself to look back at her face. All that talk of being a gentleman, and somehow this woman was able to reduce him to his most animalistic urges. He was ashamed of himself.
“You should go,” he said. His voice came out rougher than he had intended. “I will see you in the morning.”
“What?” Ava stood there, staring at him, clearly confused by the sudden change of demeanor, action, and emotion. He could not blame her. “But you—we?—”
“That was a mistake,” he said, more loudly. “I apologize. It was untoward of me.”
When she made no move to leave, he cleared his throat more assertively and gestured to the door.
“Good night, Ava.”
Her face went through a dozen changes in expression that he was unable to read before settling back on that familiar stony look.
“Fine,” she practically spat. “Good night, Christian,” she said, before turning to leave.
The door shut heavily behind her.
It wasn’t until an hour later, when Christian finally was about to doze off to sleep, that he realized that was the first time he had called her by her given name.