by Bree Wolf
It was deeply unsettling, and she knew that over time this man would be able to see past her well-crafted mask.
Never had Madeline felt so vulnerable, and she immediately knew she could not allow that to happen.
“I have no desire to converse with you, my lord,” she snapped, hoping to keep their time spent in each other’s company as brief as possible. If she could maintain a certain distance between them, he would not be able to uncover the doubts and insecurities she had hidden so well…even from herself.
Willing her shaking hands to still, she reached out and extinguished the candle closest to her. Courage, she whispered to herself before turning to meet her husband’s eyes. Those dark eyes that made her breath catch in her throat and her skin crawl with…
Madeline could not say. It was not altogether unpleasant, and yet, it terrified her like nothing she had ever known.
Forcing her breathing to remain as close to normal as possible, she gestured to the sconce beside him. “If you’d be so kind, my lord.”
At the sarcastic tone in her voice, his eyes narrowed, and yet, he still regarded her with the same intensity as before. “Why?” was all he said in reply.
Annoyed with his tight-lipped response, Madeline felt her muscles tense as her anger rose, urging her to lash out at him. However, such a behaviour would not serve her. It would only make it far too easy for him to see behind her mask. From experience, she knew that wild emotions tended to wipe it off her face, leaving her vulnerable.
She could not afford that now. “As I have no wish to converse with you, there is no point in delaying…” Despite the anger that boiled in her veins, Madeline could not finish the sentence, could barely keep her chin up and her gaze from dropping from his.
“No point in delaying what?” he asked, his voice as calm as ever, as he started toward her. Ever so slowly, his feet moved, carrying him closer to her while his gaze held her immobile. Madeline felt like a fly caught in a spider’s web, waiting to be devoured.
As he approached, she could feel her eyes begin to water as it took all her determination to keep her gaze fixed on his, to not back down. Clearing her throat, she blinked rapidly, hoping to encourage the tears to retreat, praying that he had not already seen them. “There’s no point in prolonging this,” she answered, annoyed with the slight hitch in her voice. “We should…we should simply…retire.”
At her words, his gaze widened and for a moment travelled to the large bed only a few steps away.
The second his eyes fell from hers, Madeline exhaled in relief. The absence of his scrutinising gaze felt as though the downpour she had been subjected to had finally ceased, leaving her shivering and soaked but free from the almost painful drumming of the tiny droplets on her skin.
However, before she could gather her strength once more, he turned back to her. “Is that what you wish?” he asked, doubt in his voice as he stepped closer, his gaze once more holding hers, daring her to speak the truth.
“What I wish?” Shaking her head, she swallowed. “Hardly.” His shoulders tensed. “However, as much as I regret that fact, I am your wife and as such it is my duty to−”
“Your duty?” he growled, and for the first time, she saw something else besides calm authority reflected in his eyes. If they had been deep and unyielding before, now they burnt with anger as his long legs suddenly moved faster, carrying him to her in the blink of an eye.
Taken aback at the intensity of his reaction, Madeline shrank back, colliding hard with the wall at her back. Briefly, her eyes closed, and she groaned at the dull pain that rang through the back of her head.
“Duty?” he all but snarled, and her eyes snapped open, staring at him in open shock as her body screamed at her to run from the danger that loomed before her.
***
Cursing himself, Derek took a step back, his hands still balled into fists as he tried his utmost to subdue the anger that had seized him so unexpectedly. What was wrong with him? He ought to have more control than to lash out at her like this, frightening her out of her mind. Her wide eyes and rapid breathing as she pressed herself against the wall, no doubt wishing to put as much distance between them as possible, spoke to the fear he had just now so unwisely evoked within her.
Duty.
It had been that word, the way she had used it, suggesting that he did not care whether she came to his bed willingly, that had sent him over the edge.
After all, he was not the man she deemed him to be, and he could not deny that it drove him mad that she would think of him like that. From the first moment he had laid eyes on her, Derek had wanted her to see him as worthy. He had wanted her to see him for who he truly was beyond the mere measurements of his life.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“You did not,” she insisted as she raised her chin in defiance. “I was merely startled.”
At the sight of her courage and unyielding will, Derek could not help but admire her. The truth was only too obvious in the slight tremble that shook her body as well as the way her chest rose and fell rapidly under her breathing. And yet, she would not cower, would not bend her head. Instead, she held his gaze, her eyes searching his, waiting, wondering.
Derek inhaled deeply, trying to choose his words with care. “The duty you speak of,” he began, noting the way she drew in a slow breath, “is none I would ask of you.”
Her gaze narrowed, a touch of confusion marking her features. “You would not?”
Slowly, he shook his head.
“I see,” she mumbled, and her gaze became distant, sliding from his for the first time that night.
Confused, Derek watched her, wondering about the touch of red that came to her cheeks as her eyes drifted to the floor. “Are you all right?”
For a long moment, she remained quiet. Then she lifted her head, and he could see that her eyes were hard with defiance once more. And yet, Derek thought to see a touch of mortification in the way she looked at him as though he had just insulted her. He could not for the life of him understand her reaction.
“So, all you want,” she began, her shoulders tense as she spoke, “is my dowry? That’s why you followed me.” As the accusation left her lips, she straightened her spine and drew back her shoulders, the look in her eyes one of challenge.
Fighting down the urge to respond with equal measure, Derek inhaled a steadying breath. “Is that what you believe?”
Snorting in derision, she shook her head. “It is what I know,” she hissed, her eyes alight with anger once more. “For years now, I’ve had to be on my guard as so-called gentlemen refused to accept my decline of their marriage proposal and instead thought it the right course of action to force me into marriage. More than once, I’ve seen that very intention in a man’s eyes, knowing exactly what he intended as he offered to escort me outside for some fresh air. Always was I able to evade their intentions, to thwart their plans.” Pressing her lips into a hard line, she regarded him with displeasure. “Maybe it made me overly confident. Maybe that’s why I didn’t see you coming.”
Linking his arms behind his back, Derek could barely contain the outrage that her words had evoked. “You did not see me coming,” he forced out through gritted teeth, “because I never had any intention of trapping you into marrying me. I merely−”
Laughing, she shook her head. “Why would I believe that? After all, men are deceitful, only ever doing what is in their own best interest. Unfortunately, women do not have that luxury.”
“Do they not?” Derek snapped. “If that were true, I wonder why it is well known all over London that you had no intention of marrying a man who ranks lower than an earl. Are you not also choosing based upon secondary characteristics? Do you not also fail to see beyond a man’s rank and fortune?”
For a long moment, she simply stared at him as though the double standard of her opinion had never occurred to her before. “I do so because it is the only choice
I can make.” She snorted. “Or at least until you decided to take it from me.”
“I did no such thing,” Derek insisted. Despite the urge to pace, to move, he found it impossible not to look at her. She was breathtaking in her anger, her righteous indignation of how society treated her. Her dark green eyes sparkled as though lit from within, and the candlelight bathed her ebony hair and porcelain skin in a warm glow. She was a woman who knew what she wanted and would not hesitate to fight for it.
Derek had known such women before. Tristan’s wife Beth as well as his sister Henrietta were birds of the same feather. However, the fire that burnt in Madeline’s gaze was unlike any he had ever encountered before. In a strange way, it matched his own, drawing him near, and despite knowing he would get burnt, he still found himself unable to resist.
“Why can you not admit that you only compromised me,” she began, annoyance clear in her voice, “in order to get your hands on−?”
“On you?” Derek interrupted, flinching at his own bold words. However, the thought that she might believe he had only compromised her to claim her dowry stung just as much as her thinking that he had done so in the first place.
At his words, her eyes widened, and he could see her drawing in a stuttering breath. “On…on my dowry?”
Gritting his teeth, Derek stalked toward her, seeing the effect of his approach clearly written on her face. Although he did not wish to frighten her, he could not leave this room without assuring her that he had not once thought about her dowry as he had hastened after her that night. Indeed, it had been the farthest thing from his mind.
“Admit it,” she whispered as he came to stand in front of her, her voice suddenly weak. “Admit that you only wanted my dowry.”
“I cannot,” he said, holding her gaze, willing her to see the truthfulness of his words, “for it would be a lie.” Without another conscious thought, he closed the small distance between them, his hands coming around her waist, drawing her against him.
Startled, she drew in a sharp breath, but did not try to free herself from his hold. “I do not believe you,” she whispered, her breathing quickening as she lifted her hands and placed them on the arms that held her. “Why would you deny it?” Although her words doubted him, Derek could see the underlying desire to have them be true in the way she held his eyes.
Tightening his hold on her, Derek lowered his head to hers, his gaze unwavering. “I swear that I did not once think about your dowry,” he whispered, feeling her shiver in his arms as his breath tickled her skin. “However, I cannot deny that from the moment I saw you I dreamed of getting my hands on you.”
Her fingers dug into his arms as she stared at him. “Why?” For a moment, hope rang in her voice before she briefly closed her eyes and shook her head as though seeking to clear it. When she looked at him again, her gaze had hardened. “No matter what you say, I cannot believe that a man, any man, but especially one in your position, could honestly bring himself to disregard the fortune attached to my name. Therefore, what you say cannot be true.”
Gritting his teeth, Derek growled at her stubbornness. “I do not need, nor do I wish for, anyone’s charity. Although you may discount my life’s achievements, everything I have, I have earned by my own hands’ work.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her head up as his gaze burnt into hers. “I swear I will not touch a penny of your bloody dowry.”
Chapter Six − A Heartfelt Request
He was so close, and his hands held her so tightly, their heat warming her chilled skin, that Madeline could barely think straight. All she could think about was how close his mouth was to hers.
Swallowing, she licked her lips, wishing she could dare believe the words of passion he had whispered. If only he would kiss her. Just once. Once was enough.
Not too long ago, she had dreamed of the moment Lord Townsend would finally kiss her, but then everything had fallen apart. Now, she was married to a man who had no intention of…
Duty.
That word had shaken him. He had acted as though she had insulted him. But was it not their shared duty to produce a child, an heir to his barony? Did he not want this?
Do you? A small voice whispered.
Madeline closed her eyes, realising that she did not know what she wanted any longer. Everything had changed. What had been possible before was impossible now. Her heart and mind were in an uproar, her thoughts scattered and unrecognisable. All she knew in that moment was that she wanted her first kiss.
For so long, she had waited, cautioned herself against any kind of passion for it could lead to her ruin.
And now, despite everything, ruin had found her nonetheless.
Her dreams and hopes lay shattered at her feet. The only thing that was left to her was to claim her kiss. If not from Lord Townsend, then she would simply have to make do with her husband.
After all, she deserved a kiss.
In the very moment, Madeline opened her eyes, determination filling her chest, her husband released her chin and took a step back. “Whatever you may think of me,” he said, his voice once calmer and collected as though the passion he had spoken with before had been a mere illusion, “I assure you that it was never my intention to trap you into marriage.” He nodded as though for emphasis, then took another step back, the gap between them growing into an abyss. “Tomorrow, I shall travel to Huntington House. It is in dire need of repairs, and unfortunately, our wedding has delayed me long enough.”
Although reason counselled that he had not meant his words the way they sounded to her, Madeline felt riled once more. “I do apologise if our marriage is such an inconvenience for you.”
His gaze narrowed at the hatred dripping from her voice. However, instead of retorting with equal fervour, he simply turned around and strode toward the door.
Strangely enough, his failure to respond was utterly devastating to Madeline. She felt dismissed as though she was not worthy of his attention, his time. “None of this would have happened,” she called to his receding back, anger heating her cheeks, “if you had not followed me. Now, I am trapped in a marriage to the wrong man.”
Instantly, he froze, his shoulders tensing as he drew in a slow breath. Madeline had known that her words would hurt him, and yet, she had flung them at him, feeling the sting of his rejection as acutely as the pain she had now forced on him.
Slowly, he turned to look at her, his dark gaze ablaze as it drilled into her. And then he moved toward her, and she found herself retreating once more until her back was firmly pressed against the wall.
Excitement rushed through her veins, and she could not contain the inexplicable delight that seized her as his arms pulled her against him yet again. Staring into his fiery eyes, she wondered about the man who was her husband, a man who seemed quietly respectful one moment, dangerously threatening the next.
Not to her life.
But to her heart. Her principles. Her determination.
Tension holding his jaw rigid, he glared at her, and Madeline could see that a battle waged within him. What was it that angered him so? After all, he could not possibly be jealous that she had wanted to wed another man.
“You do not know of what you speak,” he finally snarled, utter disgust hanging on his voice. “Townsend is a far cry from the man you deem him to be.”
Madeline flinched at his words, feeling the sting of his insult, and cursed him for thinking her incapable of judging another’s character reliably. Holding his gaze, she gave back with equal measure. “It is you who sees only what he wants to see,” she retorted, her gaze unwavering as it held his. “Otherwise, you would have seen with one glance that he is the man I wished to marry…out of my own free will.”
Standing so close, Madeline noticed his muscles tensing, all but felt his hands ball into fists and his gaze burn with anger. And yet, there was a touch of guilt on his features that immediately spilled over and onto her, weighing down her heart heavily…and rather inconveniently.
For it cooled her own
outrage and indignation, and for a moment, she felt tempted to pull him into her arms and soothe his worries.
Her change of heart might have shown on her face for his own features began to soften as though in response. He exhaled slowly, and for a long moment, his gaze held hers as they both seemed to let go of the anger with which they had spoken only minutes before. Then he swallowed, the right corner of his mouth tugged up a little as though in imitation of a smile. “I bid you a good night, my lady,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gentle.
Disappointment seized Madeline, and her mouth opened in protest.
However, no sound came out.
Nodding his head to her, he turned to go, his gaze slowly falling from hers, momentarily drifting lower and touching her lips.
Madeline inhaled a deep breath as hope and a fair amount of excitement swelled in her chest.
However, she was once again disappointed as he failed to act on the desire she had seen in his gaze and merely turned to go.
“I have a request,” Madeline blurted out before she could stop herself. Cursing under her breath for her lack of self-control, she lifted her chin, struggling with the need to appear strong and unyielding and the desire to finally know the meaning of a kiss.
Half turned away, he looked back at her over his shoulder. “A request?”
Madeline’s head slowly bobbed up and down, her voice suddenly stuck in her throat.
Her husband inhaled, then nodded his head as he took a step back towards her. “If it is within my power, you shall have it.”
As her trembling fingers curled into the soft fabric of her nightgown, Madeline felt her heart rejoice and her skin crawl with nervous agitation. Why had she spoken up? Why had she not simply allowed him to leave? After his refusal to bed her, she should have felt elated as it meant she hardly need see him at all. Should she abandon her original request and instead ask for something trivial?
Courage, that annoying voice whispered once more, daring her not to back down.