Page 8 of The Spinster and Her Rakish Duke (The Athena Society #3)

“My dear girl,” he said, embracing her warmly. “You’ve been like a daughter to me these past years. I pray you’ll find every happiness at Valemont.”

“Thank you, Uncle William. For everything.”

He nodded, then turned to the duke. “Your Grace, I trust you’ll take excellent care of my niece.”

“You have my word,” the duke replied solemnly.

With final embraces and promises to write, Samantha found herself being handed up into the duke’s well-appointed carriage.

The interior was luxurious, with deep burgundy velvet seats and gleaming brass fittings, but she barely noticed. She was too focused on the weight of what she’d just done.

The duke settled across from her, his long legs taking up more space than seemed fair. Through the window, she could see Jane waving, Uncle William’s hand on her shoulder.

Then the carriage lurched into motion, and Norfeld Hall disappeared behind them.

Along with Samantha’s spinsterhood.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rhythm of the horses’ hooves and the occasional creak of the carriage springs.

Samantha kept her gaze fixed on the passing countryside, but she could feel his eyes on her, studying her profile with that unsettling intensity. He made her want to hide herself.

Finally, when the silence had stretched beyond bearing, his voice cut through the quiet.

“Are you ever going to talk to me?”

She turned to meet his gaze, noting the slight tension around his eyes. “I find the entire situation rather ironic, actually.” She said, a ghost of a smile threatening to pull at her lips.

“Ironic?”

“I spent the evening trying to prevent my sister from falling into scandal, and instead I managed to create one of my own.” She shook her head ruefully. “If someone had told me a week ago that I’d be married to the Duke of Valemont by now, I’d have suggested they see a physician.”

“Neither of us could have predicted Lady Willington’s performance,” he said reasonably.

Samantha let out a short laugh. “Certainly not.”

“What does that mean?” Now, his brows lowered slightly over his eyes.

She studied his face, noting the way his eyes sparked with interest. “It means I never imagined I’d find myself married to someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“A rake,” she said bluntly. “A man whose reputation precedes him into every drawing room in London. I did this solely for Jane’s sake, Your Grace. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Something flickered in his green eyes—surprise, perhaps, or wounded pride. He leaned forward slightly, and she caught that familiar scent of his cologne that had unsettled her so thoroughly the night they’d met.

“Perhaps,” he said, his voice dropping to that dangerously quiet tone she remembered, “there are certain perks to marrying a rake.”

“Perks?”

“We could certainly take advantage of our vows.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and she felt heat flood her cheeks. “I imagine there are aspects of intimacy you’ve never experienced, Duchess . At least not with an experienced man like me.”

The way he said her new title made something flutter low in her stomach. She found herself leaning slightly forward, drawn by the intensity in his eyes, the promise in his voice.

Then sanity reasserted itself, and she pulled back sharply. “I know my duties, Your Grace. I understand that I’ll be expected to share your bed to provide an heir.”

His expression shuttered immediately. “No.”

“No?” She stared at him in confusion. “But surely?—”

“I have no interest in having children.”

The words froze her blood. “What?”

“My nephew shall inherit the title when I die. There’s no need for direct heirs.”

“But… but duty—” She struggled to form coherent thoughts. “You married me for duty’s sake, didn’t you?”

“That’s different.” He said, too nonchalantly for her liking.

“How is it different?” Her voice was rising, but she couldn’t seem to control it. “You’re a duke . Providing an heir is your primary responsibility.”

“I don’t want a family of my own.” His tone was final, brooking no argument.

“Why?” The question burst from her before she could stop it. “Why would you refuse to have children? Most men of your station consider it their greatest achievement.”

He looked away, his jaw working silently. When he finally spoke, his voice was carefully controlled. “My reasons are my own.”

“Your reasons?” Anger was building in her chest, hot and overwhelming. “You trap me in this marriage, tear me away from my family, and then inform me that you have no intention of fulfilling the most basic expectation of the union?”

“I never said I wouldn’t fulfill my husbandly duties.” His eyes met hers again, and there was something predatory in his gaze. “I’ll be more than happy to consummate our marriage. To give you pleasure beyond anything you’ve ever imagined.”

The brazen words made her face flame. “How can you speak of such things so casually?”

“Because I’m not a green boy, and you’re not a sheltered miss who does not understand what happens between a man and woman.”

“You’re impossible,” she said, though her voice sounded breathless even to her own ears.

“I am honest.” He leaned forward again, close enough that she could see the gold flecks in his green eyes. “Which is more than can be said for most husbands.”

“Well, Your Grace, I’m afraid you’ll have to keep your honesty elsewhere.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “I won’t give myself to a man who wants nothing to do with me beyond physical convenience.”

“Nothing to do with you?” His voice was soft, dangerous. “Is that what you think?”

“Isn’t it? You can return to your mistresses, so long as you’re discreet. I won’t play the part of the naive wife who pretends not to notice.”

“There are no mistresses.” The words came out sharp, almost angry.

“Oh, please. Your reputation?—”

“My reputation is largely exaggerated.” He was leaning closer now, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “And even if it weren’t, do you truly think I’d dishonor my wife so blatantly?”

“I think you’d do whatever pleases you, consequences be damned.”

“Then you don’t know me at all.”

“I know enough.” But even as she said it, she was becoming acutely aware of how close he was, how his proximity made her pulse race.

“Do you?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Do you know that you’ve been driving me to distraction since the moment I saw you in that corridor? Do you know that I’ve thought of nothing but you for days?”

“You …You lie.” She whispered, but she couldn’t seem to look away from him.

“Do you know,” he continued, his voice like velvet, “that you will beg me for pleasure before this marriage is through?”

Indignation flared in her chest, but it was quickly subsumed by lust. “I will not.” She protested, but the words came out weak, unconvincing.

“You will.” He was so close now that she could feel his breath against her cheek. “You’ll beg me to touch you …to taste you, to make you forget everything but the way I make you feel.”

Her breathing had gone shallow, and she could feel heat spreading through her body in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I’m very sure of you , my wife.” His hand came up to trace the line of her jaw, and she shivered at the contact. “You may pretend you want nothing to do with me, but your body tells a different story.”

“My body—” She tried to argue, but he smiled.

“Responds to me,” he finished softly, giving her a once over that sent shivers down her spine, “Just as mine responds to you.”

She was drowning in the intensity of his gaze, in the promise of his words, in the way his touch made her skin come alive. Every rational thought was deserting her, leaving only the awareness of him, of the electricity crackling between them.

“I can feel your pulse racing,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against the sensitive spot at the base of her throat. “I can hear the way your breathing has changed. Tell me again that you want nothing to do with me.”

She opened her mouth to do exactly that, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she found herself leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed as his hand cupped her face.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, satisfaction evident in his voice.

The carriage lurched to a sudden stop, throwing them apart.

Samantha gasped, her eyes flying open as reality crashed back over her. The duke’s hand fell away from her face, and they stared at each other in the sudden silence.

“Your Grace,” came the driver’s voice from outside. “We’ve arrived at Valemont Hall.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Samantha seemed to collect herself, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair with shaking hands.

“Excellent,” she said, her voice artificially bright. “I’m eager to see my new home.”

She reached for the carriage door, but his hand shot out to stop her.

“Samantha—”

“Your Grace,” she corrected sharply, though she didn’t look at him. “I think it’s best if we maintain proper formality.”

He said nothing to those words, but he released her wrist.

“Allow me.” She heard amusement loud and clear in his voice.

He opened the carriage door and stepped down, then turned to hand her out. She had no choice but to accept his assistance, though she tried to ignore the way her skin tingled where his fingers touched hers.

I feel nothing, she thought, even though she knew it was a lie.

Valemont Hall rose before them like something from a fairytale, all golden stone and mullioned windows gleaming in the afternoon sun. It was magnificent and imposing and utterly intimidating.

“Welcome home, Duchess,” the duke said quietly.

Samantha stared up at the grand facade, then at the man who was now her husband. Home. The word felt foreign on her tongue, as foreign as everything else about this new life she’d stumbled into.

“Indeed,” she said finally. “Home.”

But as they walked toward the imposing front entrance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was walking into something far more dangerous than a simple marriage of convenience.

The way he’d looked at her in the carriage, the way he’d spoken to her, the way her body had responded despite all her protests… it all suggested that this arrangement might be far more complicated than either of them had bargained for.