Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

AUGUSTA

A nger swirls off of Portswell as he paces in front of me. Though I know I messed up, it doesn't change the fact that he was here, too. Why would he be here with another woman the day before he was to marry me? Or is it that he's simply trying to drive out his remaining aggression on her so he could be gentle with me?

But I don't want gentle. I want him in all his ferocity. Doesn't he understand that by now? Can't I somehow make him see that? He speaks of submission, and I want to give it to him.

I just can't. Something in me compels me to do the opposite, and I have no reason why. I fear it's the same madness that forces me to touch myself lest I go completely feral.

Tears threaten to gather in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not for this. Not for him. Not when he demands everything from me yet is here with another.

"What do you have to say for yourself," he finally says, his voice soft yet hard, as he looks at me.

Unwilling to allow him to distract me from his presence here, I cross my arms in defiance, using it as a shield against the hurt. "I could ask the same thing."

"I did not willfully disobey any edict you gave me," he roars, his tone sharp like a whip and just as painful.

"I didn't think I had to command you not to engage with a ladybird while pledged to me."

His gaze softens a touch as he slides his fingers under my chin to force my gaze to his. "I was not engaged with any other female. Neither were any of the others. This is a place where we can meet, drink, and talk without interference or someone revealing the nature of our conversation. Now you."

The tight band eases around my heart just a touch at his words. I might be na?ve, but it's far easier on my soul to believe him at his word than to think the worst. Besides, to my knowledge, he's never outright deceived me before.

Exhaustion floods my system as I slump down on a nearby bed. "I forgot."

His hands tighten as he looms above me, his mouth agape as if shocked at my words. "Please repeat yourself, madam, for I fear I did not hear you correctly. What do you mean you forgot?"

I stand up and plant my hands on my hips. A strong need to defend myself races through, winding its way up my spine. "It's not as if a lot did not happen that night. As I recall, I was reeling from the abuses you heaped upon me."

"Abuses," he grinds out, "that you enjoyed."

"It still doesn't mean I remembered your command. Teresa was so excited. I merely got caught up in it all."

He crosses his arms and shakes his head. "You cannot tell me there isn't a part of you that didn't want to do this, that didn't find a bit of thrill in doing something naughty."

"Well, no. I'm not going to lie."

"That's a good start."

Irritation floods my system as he stands here, looking all high and mighty. "And what would you have done?" I counter.

"This isn't about me. In most cases, I can come and go as I please. What you did tonight was downright reckless and dangerous."

I wave him off as his melodramatic senses start to grate on my nerves. "We had three married duchesses with us as a chaperone. We were never in any danger."

"You know absolutely nothing," he hisses, his eyes narrowing me as he stalks forward.

That familiar tendril of arousal slides through my body, sending tingling warmth over my skin and down further. I wish to stay furious at the man, but pure, unadulterated need flits through my body until it's all I can think about.

I need him to have his rough way with me. Unfortunately it shoves aside any rational thought, leaving me nearly begging for it. If only I could resist.

His hands curl around my shoulders in a tight grip, his fingers biting into my skin. I choke back a moan as he shakes me, his touch rough and demanding.

"There are forces at play that you cannot even begin to comprehend."

"Then perhaps you could explain them to me instead of insisting I know something I shouldn't."

He looks back and forth for a moment before dropping his voice. "There is a potential threat, a person who has made his desire known to have our backing in parliament whether we choose to or not. Though they have not revealed any sort of blackmail, it's understood that anything can be a lever in which to turn us to their liking. Your actions today put you in grave danger."

"No one knew it was us," I cry out. "We kept ourselves concealed the entire time."

"And your scent? Did you lot think to conceal that as well? You made sure no one followed you from your house. Damnation woman," he roars. "You could have been kidnapped. Stolen away. Killed even. Anything is possible."

Fear edges out my irritation, but it flares back up as I stand toe to toe with him.

"You should have told me."

"I didn't think I had to tell you to keep yourself safe, woman. And not just from physical harm. You are to be the wife of a duke. Our name is already tinged with scandal. A scandal you caused, I might add. More eyes are on us now than if your little coup never happened."

"Oh." Unfortunately, when he puts it like that, it's easy to see how the blame is partly mine.

"Oh," he repeats, the stench of his anger flooding the room until I nearly choke on it.

"The issue is, I still don't think I'm solely to blame, and reject the idea that all of this should be cast at my feet."

"You don't? Well, worry not. All of your friends will no doubt have their bottoms blistered for what occurred here today. Make no mistake about that. Even the poor Duchess of Blackport, who probably begged and pleaded with you to reconsider."

"Her sins are not mine to bear," I insist, feeling just in my anger. "Let the other husbands deal with their wives and you deal with me and me alone."

The look he gives me is unreadable, but the vibration of fury running through his body is not. "Do you care nothing about the consequences of your actions? Do you care nothing about your friends? And here I thought you had more of a heart than that."

"How dare you question me about my heart when you have none of your own?"

He stops and stares at me. Perhaps I've gone too far? For a moment he simply blinks at me, hurt shining in his eyes. But then, what of my hurt? What of my pain?

"Madam," he grinds out. "I assure you, my heart is as real as your own. If only you were obedient enough to allow me to show it to you."

"Obedient. That's all you lot ever talk about. Nothing more than blind obedience. At what point will I be able to be my own person outside of your stringent ideals?"

"When will you ever know your place," he finally roars.

For a moment, very real fear slithers through my veins as he leans forward, his eyes wild, and his demeanor unhinged.

"My place. And where exactly is my place?"

"Under me." Those two words spoken on a soft growl do more to me than I dare let on.

"So you can possess me and own me like a trinket you buy in the market," I eventually spit out, all my feelings surging to the forefront.

"No, dammit," he swears under his breath, grabbing me into his arms. "So I can protect you."

"I can protect myself." I detest the hoarse sound to my voice as he holds me close.

The heat of his body seeps into my pores, filling my nose with his potent scent. I feel so weak. So very weak when I'm with him. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps we aren't the love story for the ages.

"Damn you, minx," he growls against my lips before searing me with a kiss. "I never wanted you before, never needed you. You were a sister to me, and nothing more." His rough hands tear away the cloak and throw it to the ground. "And now that I'm forced to have you, I find I cannot exist without you." Without pausing, he runs his fingers over the fabric and brocade of my evening dress.

Perhaps we should have considered changing into something a bit more pedestrian, but none of us were thinking clearly at the time. In this, he's right. It would have been far too easy to spot women dressed as fashionably as we were. Not that I'll admit that to him anytime soon.

A soft cry flits through my lips as his hands grip the fabric of my dress, jerking it up over my head without any care to its delicacy. But then… he is a duke. It's not as if another dress cannot be procured. My insides twist as rational and irrational thoughts flit through my brain.

I shouldn't be thinking of clothes at a time like this. I should be only concentrating on the feel of his hand on my body as he strips me bare. He pulls at the laces of my corset and plucks at them with expert precision.

"You turn my head and muddle my senses," he groans. "You're far better and more enticing than any drop of alcohol. How I would give you the world just to be mine." He jerks me around to pull the strings through, causing my stays to fall to the floor with the rest of my clothing.

But it's not enough. He continues to strip me until there's nothing left. Soon, I stand before him in nothing but my stockings and garters, but they don't protect me. I'm sure he sees just how shamefully wet and wanton his actions cause me to be.

"I'm sure you're going to torment me just as harshly as you've done the past week or so. What was it you promised? That my wedding night would be pleasurable if I obeyed? Does this mean I'll find out how horrible it will be? Will you make it wretched on purpose?"

He pulls away, his eyes dark as midnight as he peers down at me. The man in front of me is someone I no longer recognize. It should frighten me, should repel me. Unfortunately, I find myself further drawn in like a moth to a flame.

"You speak of having a heart," I spit out. "But you do well enough to push me away, teasing me just enough to be beholden to you then tearing it from my grasp. What heart is that?"

"Do you torment me with a purpose, woman? Do you rile me up for your own conniving amusements? You have no idea just what I'm capable of, what I keep hidden from you for your sanity and mine. If you only knew the things I wish to do to your virginal flesh… You would know my heart if you were but to look."

It's madness, pure and simple. It's the only thing I can think of that keeps me pushing him. I want his perversion. I want his ire. I want all of it to rain down upon me and drown me in it so I can no longer think. His rough touch is the only thing that stops the madness from creeping into my brain and taking hold.

Unable to stand it, I clutch at my hair, wishing I could explain this secret shame. It's not that I don't wish to communicate my needs… I can't. I don't know how to. No one ever taught me. No one ever showed me the way.

Mother certainly never showed anything like this. Perhaps it's just me. Perhaps I'm the broken one. Tears finally fill my eyes as I look at the one man I love. The one man I cannot seem to keep from pushing away.

Even now, as he runs his hands over my body, I shove him away, physically striking him, hoping to get him to act with more than just these delicate touches and gestures. I don't want it. I don't want to feel the pity rolling off of him as he tries to cajole me and calm me with his touch.

I want to be ravaged beyond the ability to coherently think.