Page 55 of Wedded to the Cruel Duke
She did not understand him—not at all. And not knowing or understanding was the worst feeling one could ever inflict on Phoebe Montgomery.
She wordlessly helped herself to the sumptuous fare before her without even tasting anything. How could she when all she could think about was his hardness pressed against her, his lips moving insistently on her own?
Phoebe was not going to stand for this constant back-and-forth, cat-and-mouse game that her husband seemed to be so fond of engaging in.
By hook or by crook, she was going to have a talk with her husband and get to the bottom of his baffling behavior!
The library had been his solace ever since he was a young boy.
His father, the Duke of Cheshire, had been a rather exacting man in his prime, expecting only the best from his only son and heir. Charles had been given the best education that money and power could afford. One could even say that his knowledge was on par with the one who sat on the throne.
And he had used every bit of it in service of the Crown.
But none of it served him—not now when he was plagued by a pair of wide eyes the color of rich caramel, hair the color of spun gold, and lips that could drive a saint to dissolution.
Indeed, he was now in a constant state of arousal, so hard that he had had to pleasure himself several times already with no sign of recourse. All it would take is the mere thought of her and the intense craving would gnaw at him until he feared that it would eventually drive him mad.
When she had walked into the training room last night, he had thought her a vision conjured by his most lustful fantasies, with her hair unbound and her lush figure draped in silk as delicate as a spider’s web.
He had meant to intimidate her. To show her just how dangerous it was to rile a man who was lusting for her for as long as he had, only to find that she would not cower in the face of his passion.
Indeed, she had seemed to embrace it, todelightin it even.
Oh, he had no doubt that she was an innocent, but her response to his advances—dear God in heaven, it had been his undoing!
Scowling, he shut the book in his hand and slid it back into the shelf with a little more force than was necessary. Phoebe had become an unceasing torment in his loins and one that he would not so easily be cured of, it would seem.
“Oh, there you are! I thought I might find you here.”
The sweetness of her voice filtered into his consciousness, stirring the intense longing he had felt for her. Charles could not dare to turn around. Just one look and he knew he would have her up against the bookshelves once more.
Frowning at himself, he finally managed to utter, “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean what am I doing here?” she pursed her lips. “I enjoy reading as much as you do, apparently.”
Yes, hedidenjoy reading, but that was not the sole reason why he was in the library.
“I thought you hated dark and drafty places,” he remarked, finally building the courage to face her.
His dear wife did not bother answering that. Rather, she simply tilted her head a little to the side, studying him as a curious little bird might.
“Have you been avoiding me all afternoon, Charles?” she asked him.
He should have expected it—Phoebe was nothing but forthright, and if she ever thought he was hiding from her, he should have known she would call his bluff.
“Do not be so absurd,” he scoffed instead, slotting another book a little too forcefully. There was no point in readinganythingnow—Phoebe already had him thoroughly distracted from the moment she walked through the door.
“Well, I do think it is a little absurd,” she countered with a flash of a smile. “Who would think that the great Marquess of Wentworth would be hiding from his wife in his own library? Most men would go to a gentlemen’s club or some other place, I suppose.”
When she put itthatway, then he was being rather absurd.
She casually shrugged her shoulders and he was once again reminded of the creamy smoothness of that particular part ofher body. He hadtastedher there and now found himself quite inexplicably insatiable.
He wanted nothing more than to push her against those damned shelves and kiss her senseless as he pulled the pins out of her hair. He would have her naked and moaning his name as he tasted her. Oh, he could teach her so many things, far more than all these books ever could.
He wanted more of her. He wantedallof her.
So, he turned his back on her, fighting to tamp his desires with every fiber of control he still possessed.