Chapter 3

Chapter Three

T he wedding was a small and frightfully quick affair. Organized, acted upon, and then over with in what felt like the blink of an eye.

And by the time Selina found herself at the wedding breakfast, sitting with her sisters, the reality of her new life still felt strange and alien to her, such that it was hard to truly fathom everything that had happened these past two weeks… and what was yet to come.

“He is not as bad-looking as one might think,” Louisa noted in a way that suggested she was struggling to speak the words. She was younger than Selina by four years, and she sat on her right. “Beastly, but in a rugged way.”

“I was thinking the same,” Isabella, Louisa’s twin, said airily. She sat on Selina’s left. “From the left side, especially. And he certainly is big.”

“Do we know what caused the scars?” Diana asked. She was the youngest of the four, barely turned sixteen.

“Does it matter?” Louisa widened her eyes at her younger sister, a warning not to bring up such a touchy subject. “I do not think it does. They are hardly even noticeable. Again, from the right angle.”

“If anything, you want a man who is not perfect,” Isabella picked up. “That means there is little chance of other women trying to steal his attention.”

“But there are so many scars,” Diana pointed out as she bit her lip. “I cannot look at him without wincing.”

“Diana!” Louisa snapped. “Now is not the time!”

“I did not mean anything by it,” Diana apologized. “I was just curious.”

“Well, be curious somewhere else,” Louisa snapped. “His Grace is a most…” She hesitated, as if the next words would pain her. “He is a most handsome groom, and I would be remiss if I did not tell you, Selina, how jealous I am.”

“As am I,” Isabella agreed, although she did not sound as if she meant it. “So very jealous. I hope that Mother finds someone similar for me.”

“And Mother certainly is pleased with him,” Diana added in a bid to be a part of the conversation, and hopefully not put her foot in her mouth. “That must count for something?”

“Diana…” Louisa groaned.

“What?”

“Are you incapable of saying the right thing?” Louisa said. “I swear, girl, you were dropped on your head as a baby.”

“I was not!”

“You were,” Isabella affirmed. “And I know it because I was the one who dropped you.”

“You did not!”

“I was there,” Louisa added, trying her best not to burst into laughter. “And for good measure, I then picked you up and dropped you a second time.”

The twin sisters burst into a fit of giggles as Diana screwed up her face and glared at them. She was used to being the butt of their jokes, and now that Selina was going to move out, the teasing would only grow worse.

Times were that Selina might have told them to stop teasing their sister, for she had always been protective of Diana. But with everything going on today, not to mention these past two weeks, she could not bring herself to care one bit. Her life was a misery of the highest order, and oh what she would not give to trade lives with Diana, or Louisa, or Isabella or… or… or anyone, to be perfectly honest.

Even the help’s lives, for how simple they are, might be an improvement.

Two weeks could not make Selina change her feelings about this marriage. If anything, the fourteen days that had passed since that brief exchange in the hallway had only made things worse.

She had not spoken a single word to the Duke in that time.

She had not heard from him.

She had not been given any indication that he cared for her or their impending marriage one little bit. In fact, based on their single exchange, it seemed that he wanted as little to do with this marriage as she did and, by extension, as little to do with her.

There he stood, across the room, seeming to purposefully ignore her as he spoke with people she did not know or care to know. She felt like an imposition at her own wedding, in the way and utterly inconsequential. Quite a way to feel on one’s wedding day.

“Are you going to speak with him anytime soon?” Louisa asked suddenly.

“What was that?” Selina snapped, not meaning to but unable to control herself.

Louisa reared back, but Isabella stepped in. “She is right, Selina. You cannot sit here pouting all day.”

“I am doing no such thing.”

“Sulking then—and do not say otherwise, for that is exactly what you are doing.”

“It is not on me to speak with my own husband,” Selia said stubbornly. “If he has anything to say, he knows where I am.” She crossed her arms and pursed her lips.

It looked as if she had spoken too soon, for her husband turned around suddenly and started toward her. The sight of him coming her way had her heart racing, nerves it felt like—trepidation because she suddenly remembered how she had felt the last time they had spoken.

He was just so big… and scary… and powerful. The room seemed to move around him as if he were the center of gravity. And as she watched him approach, she met his eyes and he held her stare. It was not love she saw in his eyes, however, but anger.

“Your Grace.” Isabella stood up quickly as he reached them. “It is wonderful to meet you, finally.”

“Your Grace,” Louisa echoed, also standing. “We have heard so much about you.”

He eyed them dismissively, barely acknowledging them, before turning his attention back to Selina. “We are leaving soon,” he announced gruffly. “Best that you say your goodbyes now.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said we are leaving soon.”

“I heard you,” Selina replied. “But it is so early. There is no need to leave just yet.”

His expression darkened. “That is for me to decide. My estate is some distance from here, so we will have to stop at an inn for the night. I do not wish to arrive there after dusk. So again…” He raised an eyebrow in warning—the left eyebrow, for the right one was badly scarred. “Say your goodbyes, but do it quickly. I do not wish to be late.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

If there had ever been a chance that Selina might have felt even a tinge of hope for this marriage, the barest chance that it had potential… it was dashed in that instant.

As a girl, when Selina had pictured her future husband, she had dreamed of a love match. Now, she would have settled for something as simple as liking him.

“Well, that was certainly rude,” Isabella huffed as she sat back down.

“He’s not exactly Mr. Personality, is he?” Louisa remarked.

“You have no idea,” Selina muttered bitterly.

The day thus came to a close earlier than she had expected, her new life set to start the moment she left her home for the last time. She said goodbye to her sisters right there before seeking out her mother, whose eyes brimmed with tears.

“I could not be happier for how this has turned out,” Lady Langham said as she hugged her. “I am so proud of you, dear, for everything.”

A kiss on each cheek, a commitment to pretending that this was something they both wanted. And before Selina knew it, she was walking across the driveway, toward the carriage, beside which her husband stood waiting. He did not smile. He did not look pleased to see her. Resigned, was the sense that she got.

The way he looks at me, one would think that I was the one who forced this marriage on him!

“Husband,” she uttered as she reached the carriage.

He cleared his throat but still said nothing, waving her inside. She curled her lip purposefully at him and then, with nothing else for it, she climbed into the carriage and said goodbye to her old life once and for all.

* * *

The silence that filled the carriage was as tense as it was awkward. It had been nearly an hour since Selina and her husband had climbed inside and begun the long journey north, and during that time, not so much as a word had been spoken.

Is this what I am to expect for my future, from now until the day that I die? Silence?

It seemed, from the way her husband was behaving, that this would indeed be the case.

He sat across from her, his large body turned to face the window. His stare was purposeful, his expression hardened, and the look in his eyes suggested that he would rather be running beside the carriage than stuck inside with her.

There was an anger inside him. Selina could sense it. And while that scared her a little—for how could it not?—she told herself that fear was not an emotion she could live with for the rest of her days. They were married now, this was her life. It might not be the love match she had always wanted, but that did not mean the two had to hate one another.

And so, wishing to put the past behind them and perhaps attempt some sense of congeniality, she dared to break the silence.

“Exactly how far away is this estate of yours?” Selina asked, for she knew not what else to say.

“Some distance,” he replied carefully, not so much as bothering to look at her.

“Oh, well, thank you for the clarification.”

His jaw clenched, and she saw him take a deep breath. “Northwick Estate… it is just south of Manchester, which means that we will not arrive until tomorrow morning.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “That is farther than I thought.” The implication hit her, and she could not help but sink down in her seat. “Much farther…”

That far? Completely removed from my life and everything that I know. Such a distance that I will be as good as trapped.

“It is rather lovely up there,” he added cautiously, as if he sensed her mood and wanted to reassure her. “This time of year, especially. I am sure you will grow to love it.”

She frowned. “Yes, perhaps you are right.”

Silence fell between them again. Only this time, it was not quite so tense.

Their interaction, although brief, surprised Selina because it almost sounded as if Benedict was trying to placate her. As if he had sensed her disappointment and wished to reassure her that things would not be so bad as they sounded.

Is it possible that he feels sorry for me ?

A laughable concept, as he did not seem the type. Although…

Selina dared to study him. He was still facing the window, but he was not as turned toward it as he had been. And his eyes, every few moments, would flick to her as if trying to get a better look at the woman who was now his wife. He was still rugged. He was still tense. But the anger had faded… if only slightly.

Selina watched him closely. This time, she tried to see through the fear, past the monster that her husband seemed so intent on embodying. His frame was large. His face was scarred horribly. But his eyes… dark eyes… there was a softness behind them, she was sure of it. Pain, perhaps? As if the true him was trapped inside the monster and wished for a way out.

She almost laughed at that. Surely, she was just being hopeful.

“It is my thought that since I’ll be living far away from my family, it might be nice if my sisters come and visit sometime soon,” she ventured, testing the waters.

Benedict’s head snapped around—he was surprised by the turn the conversation had taken. “Excuse me?”

“My sisters,” she repeated. “If the country is as lovely as you say, then I am sure they would love nothing more than to?—”

“That is not an option,” he said harshly.

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

He bit his tongue and took a slow breath. “My meaning is, I am not one to ordinarily receive guests. They would not be comfortable.”

She snorted. “I am sure they will be. My sisters are not dainty. A bed is all they require, some food when they are feeling hungry, and a washroom to clean themselves in the morning. Surely, this vast estate of yours has all of?—”

“I said no!” he snapped, which had Selina recoiling as if struck. So much for her belief that there might be a softer side to the beast. “What I meant to say is that in time, perhaps your sisters may visit?—”

“In time?” she cut him off, feeling angry now because while she had tried her best to extend some sort of olive branch, he appeared dismissive of it, not caring for her needs at all! “What does that mean?”

The corner of his lips twitched. “This marriage has been a surprise to more than you and I. Half the ton is talking about it, and although we have managed to avoid a scandal, I have no doubt that there are more than a few who are hoping to unearth one.”

“And this has to do with my sisters visiting because…?”

“In time, they will be allowed to visit.” He looked warningly at her. “But only when I am certain that the excitement this marriage has caused has calmed down significantly.”

“Allowed?” Selina asked angrily.

“Yes…” Benedict uttered, sensing a trap. “When the timing is right, I will allow you to invite them over.”

“So, I am to be your prisoner. Is that it?”

He blinked. “Excuse me?”

“This marriage of ours,” she began with a flutter of her eyelashes and a softening of her voice. “Will I need to ask permission when I wish to bathe in the morning also?”

He frowned as if he did not understand her. “What? No. Of course not.”

“How about when I break my fast in the morning? Or sup in the evening?”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“And when I wish to go outside? Shall I ask your permission for each book I wish to read?”

The change in his expression told her that he finally understood what she was doing—mocking him. His gaze hardened, and he bared his teeth like a wolf stalking its prey. But Selina, feeling fed up, did not care.

“Stop that,” he commanded.

“Perhaps you would like the final say over what I wear each day too,” she continued, ignoring his words. “I would hate for you to be embarrassed by me if we were seen in public together.”

“I said, stop that.”

“Not that we will be seen in public, so there is no need to worry. I wonder if you will also chain me to the wall at night. May I request a collar rather than manacles? I have such weak wrists, and I fear they may hurt me.”

“Selina…” The corner of his lips twitched again, and his leg began to bounce. “You are being highly ridiculous. I was simply expressing a concern that?—”

“That I belong to you, I heard you,” she cut him off. “And I am simply trying to ascertain what I will be allowed to do while under your roof.”

“It is not my roof. It will be our home, and all I wish is for you to be comf?—”

“Your prisoner, I heard you the first time.”

“Enough!” Benedict roared, well and truly at the end of his tether.

Selina’s eyes widened, and she squeaked in shock, pushing her body back against the seat as if the mere force of his expletive was like a gust of wind battering her.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly, looking away.

Her heart raced as she felt his glare on her. Her body felt as if it was on fire. Fear seized her as she suddenly remembered the last time she had tested his temper, and how that had ended. In the hallway, on the night of the announcement of their betrothal, his huge body looming over her in a way that suggested he could crush her like a bug if he so wished.

“You are trying to bait me.” He pushed himself to the edge of his seat until he was leaning over her.

“N-No, I swear I am not.”

She pressed her body as hard as she could against the cushions, trembling beneath him. And while she did indeed feel the fear build inside her, there was something else. Something that she had felt before but still did not fully understand.

Why does this excite me? It should not. I should wish to scream! And yet…

“You are,” he growled as he bore down on her. “You take pleasure in it.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.” He reached out and stroked the side of her face. His fingers were rough on her smooth skin.

She gasped at his touch, and her heart leaped into her throat. Looking up, she met his eyes, and when she saw the rage in them, she gasped again. Only this time, she did not look away. She held his stare, determined not to give in… because she wanted to see what would happen if she pushed.

“You are not my prisoner,” he said in a deep whisper, almost a growl. “But you will treat me with respect. Is that understood?”

“And if I do not?” she asked, her eyes flashing defiantly.

Those words had come from nowhere, but she knew right away they were the right ones. The way the Duke balked, the way he then sneered and growled as if to reassert dominance… Oh, the way it had her legs trembling was a sensation she very much enjoyed.

“Do not push me,” he warned as he leaned even closer. “You will not like it.”

He was on top of her, his face a mere inch away. She could feel his breath on her lips. She could literally feel his heartbeat, as if it was her own. And as he glared at her, his eyes flicked to her lips…

“I am not your prisoner,” she murmured. “I am your wife. Although I wish I was not even that.”

“That makes two of us.”

They stared at one another in challenge. Like a wolf coming upon a rabbit in the wild, Benedict had his prey trapped beneath him. But this rabbit wasn’t going to go quietly, and she made sure that he knew it.

His eyes lingered on her lips, and the hunger she saw in them had her wanting to lean forward, had her hands itching to reach out and grab him and pull him to her… But he was the predator, and she was the prey, and she knew that the next move was his to make.

Their anger brought out a burning passion in both of them. That was what Selina was starting to realize. Oh, she might hate him, and he might hate her, but it was in that hate, that antipathy, that they had found something else.

And that something else… it was felt in their stare… it was felt in the way their bodies shook… it was felt in the way their moist lips inched closer and closer until Selina was forced to hold her breath because she knew exactly what was about to?—

The carriage came to a sudden halt, sending Benedict tumbling back onto his seat.

“We’re here!” the footman called from the driver’s seat. “Your Grace! We have arrived!”

And just like that, the tension was broken, and not a moment too soon. Although seeing as they were staying at an inn for the night, in the middle of nowhere, on their wedding night, Selina got the distinct impression that what had started just now in the carriage was a long way from being over.

It promised to be a very long night, indeed.

Want to know how the story ends? Tap on the link below to read the rest of the story.

The Duke and the Temporary Bride

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