Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

" T hat is none of your business, Your Grace," Seraphina whispered back as she squirmed in her seat, shifting around to face him, and looked him in the eye.

Gerard's eyes dropped to her bosom, before lifting slowly following the trail of her neck to her jaw, to her mouth, before meeting her eyes again.

"Oh, I think it is." His whisper was hoarse.

"Twelve months you have shown no interest in me, and suddenly you realize that I am your business?"

He smirked. "You are my wife, you belong to me. Of course you're my business."

He leaned in and blew air on her neck, making her shiver. Then, he straightened up, offering her his hand. She took it, and let him lift her to her feet.

He took a step back and she followed. "What are you doing?" she asked although she was unable to break their gaze.

He said before he swooped down and captured her lips with his. He kissed her like a hungry man presented with his first meal of the week. His mouth plundered hers, his hands cinched around her waist like a corset, pulling her towards him.

She made an inarticulate sound of desire, her hands scrabbling against his arms.

Suddenly he thrust her away, making her stumble against the wall. By the time she righted herself, he was just disappearing out of the door.

She stood still, bosom heaving, her hand over her belly beneath her rabbiting heart.

It took a while to come back to herself, and then to be filled with rage.

I am not your plaything, Gerard Milbourne.

It was difficult to fall asleep when boiling with rage, while also feeling terribly aroused.

Seraphina ground her teeth, reliving the scene in the dining room, unable to stop remembering the way Gerard's hands had felt around her waist, so big, so strong. She just knew he could lift her up effortlessly if he chose.

His lips on hers had been so demanding, not asking just taking what they wanted from her, leaving her helpless to resist. Her whole body softened into a quivering mass of desire.

She would not have protested if he had lifted her up and skewered her right where they stood.

She was still dripping wet.

She squirmed, crossing her legs in an effort to diminish the sensation of want pulsating through her like a hungry beast needing to be filled. She moaned softly into her pillow, confused as to which sensation to pay attention to. Her anger, a loud demanding thing, full of disbelief at his audacity. Or her desire, soft insidious thing, wiggling its way into her bones until it had infected every aspect of her.

Both of which made it impossible for her to settle down and sleep.

She reached for the book on her bedside table, opening to the page to the scene where the pirate had the princess tied up, her gown, torn, bosom on display.

The Princess was not afraid, however. She was boiling with anger too. The pirate came in, shutting the door to his chambers behind him and regarded her, his eyes filled with dark desire. His member tented out of his breeches.

She stared at his tumescence, fear and desire warring within her. She wanted him, but did not want to surrender.

Her hands were tied to the bed, but her legs remained free. He grabbed one, pulling her towards him. She screamed even as she widened her legs to allow him access.

He grinned, showing all his sharp teeth, knowing eyes on her.

"Scream all you want, my pretty. Nobody will heed you."

He leaned in closer and whispered in her ear, "No one will know you willingly gave yourself to me."

He grabbed his breeches and pulled them down, exposing his manhood to her fascinated gaze.

Seraphina slowly reached down with her free hand, and covered her wetness, pressing down in an effort to dull the pulsing of her most sensitive flesh. She moaned softly as the contact simply spurred more sensation and resumed her reading.

The pirate was looming over the princess, his big body covering diminutive frame and then he was lifting her legs high, his stiffened member poking at her as he groaned before breaching her privacy and slamming into her with passionate force.

Seraphina undulated with desire on the bed, her own finger mimicking his actions as she rubbed frantically at her weeping flesh, her finger trying to go as deep as it could within her.

It wasn't enough.

She closed her eyes and imagined that it was Gerard's finger inside of her. Then he took it out and replaced it with something much bigger. She gave a tiny cry, legs spread wide as she imagined him breaching her, splitting her like a peach and then pumping into her again and again, her groans mingling with his, with the pirate's, with the princess's until she was no longer sure which of them, she was.

Even as the princess climaxed and the pirate poured his seed into her, Seraphina felt her flesh spasm and contract around her finger, a muted, dissatisfied ending to her encounter. She collapsed on the bed, panting lightly, as she imagined what it might be like to feel her husband's seed slowly leaking out of her as he withdrew from her body, his massive frame a furnace atop her.

She jerked, her desires both satisfied and not.

How long am I to live like this?

Seraphina woke the next morning with resolve already hardening within her.

Ringing the bell for her lady's maid, she gave her instructions, "I wish to have a hot lavender-scented bath, and then you will brush my hair and style it into a rounded plait, atop my head. I shall wear the diamond earbobs gifted to me by the duke on our wedding day and the emerald green morning gown with the low square neckline and short sleeves that brings out my eyes."

Leticia curtsied, "Yes, Your Grace," she said and hurried off to execute Seraphina's wishes.

She was glad that her lady's maid asked no questions, for how was she to explain that she was going to war and that her appearance was her most effective weapon?

Surely, Gerard would not be able to ignore her. She intended to get to the bottom of his hot and cold behavior if it killed her. If he wanted her like she had felt he did last night, why had he walk away?

Once she was done primping, she even allowed Leticia to add some color to her cheeks and her lips. She wanted Gerard's eyes all over her.

Finally, she went downstairs to breakfast, unsurprised to find no one else in the dining room.

Deciding that she needed fortitude anyway, she sat down to a meal of oat porridge and honey, while reading the morning gossip rags. There was not much there to catch her eye, much to her relief. Clearly, it was not common knowledge yet that her father had pockets to let.

"Good," she murmured, "long may it stay that way."

Once she was done with breakfast she straightened her gown, she took a deep breath and went in search of Gerard.

Unsurprisingly, she found him in his office, his head bent over papers and a frown on his forehead.

"Good morning," she said as calmly as she could.

He looked up. His frown deepened, and he looked back down at his papers. "I do not have time for whatever this is," he said.

She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "I shall not take up too much of your precious time, Your Grace."

He looked up with a sigh. "I can see you have some bone to pick with me. Can we do this another time, Duchess?"

She shook her head, taking a step closer to him. "We absolutely cannot."

"And why not?" he asked getting to his feet and planting his hands on the table, his eyes challenging her.

"You know why not."

He shook his head. "Use your words, Duchess; I cannot read your mind."

"Well then, here it is, plain: I am not your toy. You cannot just fondle me and then toss me aside as if I were a doll."

To her chagrin, he laughed. His eyes looked her up and down.

"I am aware that you are not a doll." He tilted his head to the side, "I do not believe I have treated you like one."

Bastard.

Seraphina fisted her hands in an effort not to box his ears. "Are you saying that you make a habit of kissing women and then simply tossing them aside?"

He cocked an eyebrow, "Is that what I did? I do not remember tossing anyone. I simply accepted your invitation to taste your lips. Should I have said thank you? I beg your pardon if that is what you are waiting for. Here it is, then: thank you for inviting me to kiss you."

"I did no such thing!" she responded in utter rage.

"Did you not? Well then… I suppose there's nothing to thank you for. We had a pleasant interlude and now it's done."

"You are the most…obtuse man I have ever met!" She shook her fist at him.

"Is that so? And here I thought I was so discerning. For example, the way that you desperately clung to me yesterday, I was quite sure you were desirous of me continuing to plunder your mouth. Maybe even more."

Seraphina, torn between mortification and anger, simply pushed his chest over and over again. His hands closed around her wrists and pushed her away from him.

"And here is why I got married for convenience. To avoid such scenes. Do not tell me I made a mistake," he said.

She stared at him, bosom heaving, unable to believe his words. "You did make a mistake," she spat at him. "What you want is no human being, but an emotionless imitation."

"Is it?" He took a step back. "Well, let me remind you of the terms of our agreement. We married so that you would not have to go back to your father's house, and I would have a duchess to complete the terms of my inheritance. As far as I know, I have not broken the terms of this agreement; so what, pray tell, are you so angry about?"

She simply stared at him, unable to believe her ears. "I suppose, by your count, I have no reason to be upset. After all, what is a bit of kissing between spouses, no? What is a little teasing? Nothing to get upset over, am I right?"

He simply blinked at her.

"Well, here is a new condition, Your Grace. You will not touch me, henceforth."

He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms and legs. He tilted his head to the side, giving her a bemused look.

"It is quite amusing that you feel sufficiently authorized to try and tell me what to do. You have clearly been alone for too long and forgotten your role as a married woman," he replied.

"Oh, I am not the one who forgot," she hissed before whirling around and leaving the room.

If she had stayed another moment longer, she might have thrown one of the heavy statues decorating the room at his head and she was not ready to rot in Newgate.

Not just yet.

"Andrew!" she called to a passing footman. "Fetch my carriage."

She needed to get as far away from her husband as possible.