Page 30 of The Scarred Duke's Bride

He picked up a cup and handed it to her without a word. She took a sip and made a face. This wasn’t her first taste of willow bark tea, but she still did not like it.

“Come and sit down,” Eric said, pointing at the bed.

Without thinking too much about it, Freya walked forward and flopped down on the bed. She gave Eric a wary glance over her cup. “What is it?”

“I just thought you’d be more comfortable and therefore less ornery if you sat down.”

“Humph!” Freya took a sip of her drink while also trying to pout. Eric smiled his secret smile and continued to butter the toast.

“You know, there are other ways to get happy which do not involve hangovers.”

“I was not trying to get drunk! And what are you talking about anyway? I don’t need to get happy. I am happy enough.”

“Then why were you imbibing like that?”

“I was thirsty, and I had nothing better to do. There. Are you satisfied?”

He shot her an amused glance, putting two slices of toast on a plate and bringing them to her. “As a matter of fact, no, I am not satisfied, but there’s little I can do about it now. Your father has forbidden me to take a mistress, and you are uninterested.”

Freya frowned, trying to understand what he was saying. “Uninterested? In what?”

He smirked. “Nothing. I am speaking nonsense. Would you like some real tea with your toast?”

Freya thought about it, her hand on her belly. It had stopped roiling about, and she did not feel as if she might cast up her accounts. “I’ll try some,” she said.

Eric poured her a cup before coming to sit by her side with his own cup. “Good morning to you,”, he said holding up his cup.

She raised her own cup before taking a cautious sip. The tea was hot and fragrant. It warmed her up nicely from the inside and did not upset her stomach. She sighed with relief and took a bite of her toast. She chewed thoughtfully, looking down at the cream silk negligee that was under her dressing gown. “Not satisfied…” she murmured. “Mistress…” she gasped, dropping her toast as she turned to Eric. “Are you talking about having relations?”

He sighed, “Your father wants an heir. How else are we to give him one?”

“But…I thought we would just wait until he died and then go our separate ways since neither of us wants to be here.”

“Do you think he will allow himself to die before either seeing an heir or changing his will? Do you not understand who he is yet? He will leave you destitute.”

Freya certainly did not like his words, but she had to admit they had merit. Her father was very serious about continuing his male line.

“I am not ready for that,” she said quietly.

“Are you evengettingready?” he asked with frustration. “What are we doing here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps we ought to return home.”

“I agree. Perhaps there you will understand what you’re giving up.”

“I am not stupid, sir. I know bloody well what’s at stake here. I just need some time to be ready.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Have it your way. We shall leave here in the morning, tomorrow.”

“Agreed.”

They both sat silently, sipping their tea and fuming.

* * *

Eric had never seen Stark Manor before. He was quite impressed with the size of it and how well-maintained it was. He’d been expecting a run-down property just judging from how impressed Freya had been with the Bath manor.

“You must show me your gardens sometime,” he said in an attempt to be friendly, once they came to a stop. He could see how much lighter she was now that they were on ‘her’ territory.