Chapter 9

"Why did you marry me?"

Her words hung in the air between them, bitter and thick with pain Edward knew she had every right to feel, especially after how he'd behaved the entire day.

How was he to confess that his silence had nothing to do with her?

"Arabella…"

"I won't stand for any more lies between us, Edward," she snapped. Her eyes were wet with tears, and even he couldn't deny the sight discomfited him. He'd made her cry. "I would have been happier if you'd left me to deal with the repercussions of my foolishness that night rather than trapped me in this farce of a marriage. Am I that far beneath your station that it would have shamed you to inform your family? Is that it?"

"It has nothing to do with your station, Ara," he answered, looking away from her. "Believe me. You have nothing to worry about from my family. I assure you of that."

"I find that hard to believe, considering how everything you've told me up till now has been a lie." Her words stung with truth, but he'd be damned if he let her insult his honor. "Am I to believe this is how it will be between us, going forward?"

"I understand you are hurt, but I won't have you insult my honor." He glared at her. "I might have kept some truths from you, but I have never lied to you, and I don't intend to."

"But you were more than willing to lie to my family and, by extension, yours. That's a lot of lies, Your Grace."

"I told you to call me Edward," he reminded her. "We are married now. It wouldn't do to call me by my title."

She turned away from him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"You're making me feel like I've forced my way into your carefully planned life and upset everything," she whispered, her voice so low that he wouldn't have heard it if he hadn't been admiring the way her wedding gown hugged her figure. "I feel I've pushed you into something you'd spend the rest of your life regretting."

He sighed, stepping close to her—so close that he could smell the lavender essence she'd no doubt bathed in. He didn't trust himself to touch her and stop. Not when his lust had been burning inside him since the moment he'd seen her walk into the church. Especially not when her lush breasts had pressed against his arm while she'd slept in the carriage.

"It was I who called you to that chamber, Ara," he muttered, hoping his words did something to chase away the guilt she shouldered heavily. "I should never have put you in such a position in the first place."

It was he who was to blame for their predicament. He was a rake by all rights, but he should have known better than to dally with an innocent, especially not in her home, where she'd no doubt be under the watchful eyes of her family.

"Forgive me if I've made you feel I blame you for our predicament. As much as it might not seem so, I don't regret being married to you. I wouldn't want to be married to anyone else," he admitted. "I will inform my family come morning that you are my wife. I promise you that they will treat you with nothing but love and acceptance."

Arabella sighed as if she'd resigned herself to her fate rather than trust his words.

"You should bathe while the water's still warm," he told her, stepping out of the room to give her privacy. "I'll have them send up a plate to you."

"I'm not hungry."

"You must eat."

"I—"

"You've barely had anything to eat all day, so you will eat what they bring up, am I understood?"

"You do not?—"

"Am I understood, Arabella?"

"Perfectly," she said through gritted teeth.

"Good."

"Will you send up a lady's maid too, or will you have me undress myself?"

"I will help you."

Her eyes widened, and she let out a gasp. He, too, was surprised that he'd suggested such a thing, but he hid his emotions better. She turned around then, surprising him with her compliance.

When his hands touched her back, she shivered but then stilled.

His hands undid the strings holding her dress together, and for each string he loosened, his tongue got heavier in his mouth. When he was finally done, he moved to help her take off the dress, but she stilled him with her hands.

"I'll finish up. Thank you."

"Oh." He swallowed. "Enjoy your bath."

He wondered if she'd have minded him joining her in the bath as he neared his study. The image of her naked and flushed in the hot bath sent a sharp jolt of lust through him that had him stumbling. Before the door closed behind him, he'd seen the outline of her curvaceous form through the thin fabric of the chemise she wore.

Her generous breasts and plump buttocks teased his eyes and tongue to run over them. He'd shut the door before she lifted the garment over her head. If he saw her naked now, there would be no way he would leave her again.

He swallowed past the thick lump that had formed in his throat as he righted himself. He needed a drink and fast, anything that would put his conflicting thoughts out of his mind.

Sure as hell, his butler had already made his rounds, lighting a fire in the ornate fireplace and placing a bottle of his favorite Scotch on his desk.

It was things like this that made him overlook the man's overbearing and downright snobby attitude.

Edward recalled how he'd ignored Arabella as if she were nothing more than a lady of the night he'd brought home. He could only hope she hadn't taken it personally. Why the man would think so still amazed him when he'd made sure to never bring his paramours to his family estate. Apart from the fact that they'd turn needy, he didn't want to disrespect his mother that way.

He'd been honest when he'd told Arabella that his family would love her, but not on all accounts. His mother, the Dowager Duchess of Soulden, would be ecstatic that he'd finally granted her one wish, albeit she'd be furious with him for not letting her be present at the ceremony or even in the wedding preparations.

For that, he was extremely grateful for the circumstances of his marriage, but even then Arabella had been unlike any other bride he'd known. She'd made her decisions fairly quickly and hadn't been at all hysterical during the planning. He'd honestly been too impressed to give his input.

His brother, on the other hand… Edward shuddered to imagine how Charles, who'd professed at every turn the need to marry a woman of good social standing, would take the news of his surprise marriage. It would take a lot of convincing that Arabella wasn't with child to make him accept the marriage. He knew his brother meant well, but…

Edward remembered his conversation with the Earl of Thorne the day after he'd announced his desire to marry her.

"Arabella is young and trusting, and she falls in love easily." Leonard had warned him. "I don't want her to get hurt. I know she claims she loves you, but I see how much her light has dimmed. If you don't want to marry her, you can say so, and she'd survive it. But if you still choose to marry her, and if you hurt her…"

"I don't intend to," Edward had affirmed, not knowing why he hadn't just taken the out the Earl had thrown him to escape this well of despair he'd fallen in.

He'd decided to stay the course and had finally married her. She'd looked so beautiful in her dress that he'd almost forgotten that what they had wasn't real. If she were really his bride, he'd have been unable to stand still, waiting for her brother to walk her down the aisle.

The sermon had made him feel guilty, for he had put her through an ordeal he could have simply freed her from.

He let out a sigh and rubbed his temples. Why was doing the good thing so bloody difficult?

"Would you be in need of a hot bath too, Your Grace?" his butler asked.

It was only because he'd been used to the man's behavior that he hadn't jumped in surprise.

"No, Aldwin." Edward waved him off, reading through the papers.

There were reports from the just finished barley and wheat harvest, complaints from farmers at the western edge of the property about the flooded lands, as the river had overflown due to recent rains, and financial reports about some investments he'd made.

He arranged them in order of priority and scanned them, but sensing an intense gaze on the side of his face, he looked up. His butler still stood there with a displeased look on his face.

"A penny for your thoughts, Aldwin." Edward sighed, looking away from him, already suspecting what the man wanted to say. "And don't bother beating about bush. I can hear you thinking."

"You shouldn't be here, Your Grace," the butler stated, the words rushing out of him as if he'd been waiting so long to say them.

"Oh, and why, pray tell?" Edward asked, leaning back in his seat.

"'Tis your wedding night."

"And?"

"You should be with your young bride."

Edward raised an eyebrow at the man. One could almost say he was… concerned.

"Coming from you, who'd thought her a paramour?"

"You'd been gone more than a week with no word, Your Grace," Aldwin explained, his cheeks flushing.

"Speak freely," Edward ordered, wanting the conversation to be over and done with quickly.

He didn't like how the suggestion was starting to appeal to him more than it had before.

"How was anyone to know you'd bring home a wife?"

"Tell me, Aldwin." He glared at his butler. "Do I make a habit of disappearing to dally with paramours?"

"Well, no, but?—"

"But nothing," he cut him off, not caring he was being rude to a man twice his age. "You do not tell me when I should or shouldn't spend time with my wife. If I need help carrying out my marital duties, I'll let you know."

"I… I…"

"You're dismissed, Aldwin," he ordered, not looking at the man for fear of regretting how he'd spoken to him.

The door closed with a gentle slam, but he knew he had upset him.

"Fuck!" Edward groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.

The truth was, he had considered going to claim his husbandly right from his young wife, but he wondered how Arabella would respond, considering he hadn't spoken two words to her the whole week.

He wasn't a bastard who didn't know when he'd hurt a woman's feelings. She had been braver than him tonight—but then she'd always been brave.

Her words at the ball had haunted his sleeping and waking moments, and he was sorely tempted to give her the night of passion she'd asked for, but he held back.

The lust she ignited within him had made him lose control more than once, and until he built resistance to the charms she didn't know she possessed, he wanted to keep his hands off her tempting body even if it killed him.

Memories of their kiss haunted him now, and his pants tightened as the lust that had nearly driven him to lift her skirts and take her irrespective of how close her family was coiled in his belly.

He wondered whether she'd taste as sweet as the lavender essence she had bathed in, whether he'd be able to last when he sheathed himself in her silken heat.

"Fuck!" he groaned, rising from his seat to pace around the room and downing the rest of his drink.

He could imagine her cries of pleasure as he teased that bud of pleasure between her legs.

He groaned, palming himself as he became unbearably hard in his breeches, working himself to the thought of her coming undone around his fingers, his tongue, his cock.

"Fuck!" He came with a groan into his hands and instantly felt shame at his actions.

He wiped his hands and downed another glass of Scotch. He looked down at himself, still hard as if he'd not just climaxed.

Go to her, it seemed to say.

"Hell no," he muttered to himself, hoping that hearing the words out loud would help to rid his mind of the foolhardy course it was about to take.

It would be oh so easy to go up the stairs and lose himself in her willing arms, but when the act was done?

Wouldn't she want what all women wanted? She'd claimed she didn't want to marry, but eventually, even she might want children, and that had never been in the cards for him.

Wouldn't she act like other women when desperate to get her way, throwing tantrums and attempting to manipulate him?

The darkness of his thoughts kept him in his seat, staring off into the fire. It would be a damned near painful decision to stay away from his alluring bride, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to ensure he had peace.

He took another sip of the dark amber liquid and let it roll around his tongue, savoring its flavors.

It was better this way.

He reclined on the sofa, deciding he'd make do rather than stir up rumors by asking the maids to prepare another chamber for him.

He didn't know when sleep took him, but when he opened his eyes, the sun had just started its ascent over the horizon.

His neck and body felt sore from maintaining the only position he could sleep in on the small sofa, considering how little sleep he'd had since his dreams had been haunted by visions of his wife's curvy frame.

"I hope you do not make a habit of sleeping in your study?" Charles, his brother, asked, looking pointedly at him.

Edward rolled his eyes and stretched, groaning at how his joints protested his choice of bed.

"Good morning to you too, Brother," he greeted once he felthis limbs loosen up. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I awoke to a most surprising piece of information, and I came to ascertain its credibility."

Edward stiffened but righted himself, busying his hands with arranging the papers on his desk. He'd wanted to wait until after breakfast to have this conversation and not a moment sooner.

Discussing this with Charles now would mean he'd have to have the unpleasant conversation twice.

"I know you know what I'm referring to, Edward," Charles accused, his voice strained. "Tell me it isn't true."

Edward sighed. "I can't."

"You got married."

"Yes, I did."

"Damn." Charles shook his head, sliding into the seat his brother had just vacated. "Who is she?"

"She's the middle sister of the Earl of Thorne…"

"Ridlington's in-law?"

"Yes."

Charles frowned deeply, and it was all Edward needed to know that an onslaught of disapproving comments was coming his way.

"I know what you want to say, but don't." He held up a hand to ward him off. "She's not pregnant, and she comes from a good family."

"But—"

"We'll discuss this after breakfast."

"Fine," Charles relented. "But you know Mother will give you hell for this."

"Don't remind me."

"You have until after breakfast," Charles warned. "Don't think you can put off this conversation like everything else."

Edward said nothing, but it wasn't until after his brother had left that he realized his hands were clenched into tight fists.

Conversations with his brother had him feeling like Charles should have inherited the duchy. There was always something wrong with any decision he made in his brother's eyes.

Edward shook off the unpleasant feeling and peered out the window of his study at the now bright morning outside. It was good weather for a ride, and he intended to enjoy his favorite morning activity.

His mind wandered back to his little wife, wondering if she'd be awake now.

What did she like to do in the mornings?

He dreaded facing her, especially after he hadn't returned to their chamber last night. He hoped she hadn't thought too much of his absence.

He stared over the lush green field stretching out before him and breathed in the crisp countryside air, his stallion beneath him. To think only a week prior he'd been in the same spot, albeit freer and not at all worried about a wife.

He would never admit it out loud, but he feared greatly he'd somehow become the one thing he'd never wanted to become by trapping Arabella in something they were both wont to forget.

For now, she might harbor anger against him, but in a few months, she may learn to be indifferent towards him, no longer seeing the need to make things work between them.

He feared greatly he'd dampen the light he'd seen in her that first night. But worse of all, it was too late to make things right.

"We better head back home, Dash," he murmured, running a hand down the side of his stallion.

He returned just as the morning meal was about to be served and rushed his ablutions.

He didn't want Arabella to have to deal with his family on her own, but to his surprise, it seemed she too had a late start to the day. She was standing nervously at the door to the dining room, her hands clenched into fists.

He appreciated the elegant figure she cut in her simple yellow day dress. She was smart not to choose something ostentatious for the first meeting with his family, and once more he appreciated her maturity. She really made a perfect wife, but here she was, wasting it on him.

He shook the thought out of his head and moved to stand beside her, obviously startling her.

"Good morning, Duchess."