Page 38 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke

I have made my bed and now, I must lie in it, she thought to herself bleakly as she stumbled back into her bedchamber.

Moments later, when Amelia came to help her undress and get ready for bed, she was thankful that the maid was tactful enough to not fill the room with needless chatter.

When she finally climbed into her bed, Phoebe felt the most alone she had ever been in her entire life.

Charles closed his eyes in frustration as he leaned against the door to his bedchamber. Not too long ago, he heard Phoebe’s quiet footfalls as she walked back to her own bedchamber.

He knew he would never forget the crestfallen look on her face when he gently extricated himself from her. He had let her down—he knew it—and there was no gentle or easy way to go about it.

But her proximity had already started to affect him in ways that clouded his logic. He could not think straight in her presence. His blood all but roared for him to pull her close, drag her to his bed, and have his wicked way with her.

It had taken all of his self-control to not sweep the dishes off the table and lay her upon it, his for the taking. Like his own personal feast.

And then, she had leaned forward, and all he could see was the bounty of those soft swells of flesh above her bodice.

Charles had to leave before he embarrassed himself in his own dining hall, in front of hiswife.

Never before had he ever felt such a strong attraction towards a woman, and there were so many who had tried to tempt him. Countless courtesans, each one more beautiful than the last, had tried to lure him into their arms, vying against each other as to who could distract him.

None of them had ever succeeded, and certainly, none of them had ever had even a fraction of the success that Phoebe had achieved tonight.

It was quite unfortunate that he could not tell her himself.

Charles groaned as he speared his fingers through his thick curls. Phoebe had become a fever in his blood, but he knew that to be with her in the truest sense of the word would ruin the both of them.

He would never be content with just one taste of her.

And she would be in far more danger than she already was.

He could not allow anything to happen to her. He must keep her safe at all costs.

It is only her pride that is hurt, he told himself.In time, she will recover from it and it will be as if she had never felt such things for me.

Somehow, that only made him feel worse.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Phoebe wasmortified.

Even as she lay in bed, she could still recall how Charles had walked away from her stiffly, as if he could no longer tolerate how foolishly she was behaving. He did not need to turn around for her to know that he most likely wore an expression of disgust.

“I acted like a total peagoose!” she moaned to herself. She threw the covers over her head as if it would lessen the shame she felt.

It didnot.

She had dropped hints the whole night and all but thrown herself at him like some desperate strumpet—only to be calmly and coldly rebuffed.

Even then, she had wanted nothing more than for him to reach out for her, to lay his lips upon hers… to assuage the fire that hadbeen burning within her from the moment he had caught her sneaking into his estate in the dark of the night.

Never before had she thought that fear and desire made for such a heady concoction, but it did.

Heaven help her, ittrulydid.

And now, all she could think about was how she might convince Charles to kiss her. To ravage her. Make herhisin every sense of the word—whatever that truly entailed.

If only she was not such a miserable failure.

Perhaps I should just give up on trying my hand at seduction, she thought morosely as she turned in bed.Clearly, I have not the talent for it—or the physical attributes to achieve a modicum of success in that area.