Chapter 5

5

Sebastian slowly madehis way closer to the naked, wet woman in the bathtub staring at him with wide eyes.

As far as he was concerned, he had a wife now, and a very pretty one.

“Good evening, Duchess,” he said, slowly walking towards her.

“Please leave,” she said.

He stopped in front of the bathtub and leaned his hip against it. “Why should I?”

Indeed, why? When she’d come down earlier, she was all grace and silks, no traces of grime and pig excrement. She’d taken his breath away. Her head had been free of that ridiculous cap that made her appear ten years older, and her thick brown hair had been done in a fashionable updo that would not have been out of place in the poshest London ballrooms. The farm clothes that had looked like a burlap sack around her were gone. And in their place was a dress that made her look like a Greek goddess descending from Olympus… He didn’t even care that it was a little too short at the ankles; it didn’t do anything to hide the length of her beautiful legs. Besides that, it had fit her figure perfectly. It highlighted her generous bosom with that tiny little fold between her breasts that drove him mad. The way her body moved under that floaty skirt, which demonstrated in a quite decadent way her round hips and thin waist.

Heavens, how could a piece of perfectly acceptable social clothing be so revealing? So arousing?

Or was it just she who brought this burning into his blood. Into the very center of him. He didn’t remember any other woman having this effect. Not in the ton. Not in brothels. Not in the country house parties.

She was just a farmer’s wife.

How could she be so…delicious? So desirable?

And especially now, with her skin bare and glistening, her hair still in the updo but already damp and curling up around her face. He craved to trace her delicate face with a knuckle.

It wasn’t just her beauty, though. She had annoyed him in the carriage with her constant chirping, but he liked that she was so lively, so strong. She was generous with her smiles, and not even a grumpy duke nor his grumpy mama intimidated her. On the contrary, she looked at everything with wide eyes and admiration. There was so much spirit in her, it made him feel a little more alive just being next to her.

“You’re mine now,” he said. “I bought you.”

How different she was from Lady Isabella.

As pretty and as perfect as Lady Isabella was, Sebastian could count the times they’d talked on his fingers. And every time Sebastian had the most suffocating feeling of boredom. They were like oil and water. She cared about appearances. About bloodlines. About reputation.

He did not.

She talked about what flowers and fabrics were fashionable this Season. How many debutantes had entered the marriage mart. The extent of this or that gentleman’s fortune.

He did not.

She gossiped, just like her mother.

He did not.

But this woman…

The way she had defended him against his own mother, the way she didn’t let Mama intimidate her showed him she had more grit than he had believed.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub, his hand dipping into the warm water next to her leg. The air was a little damp and smelled of lavender soap. It was herbal and sweet, like her. He raised his hand and let water droplets drip on her naked knee and roll down her skin. Such a pretty, glistening knee. She was flushed—perhaps from the heat or, he hoped, from his presence.

“That doesn’t mean you have the right—” she began, but he didn’t let her finish.

“And you said yes,” he said. “Yes to be mine. You agreed.”

“Your Grace…”

She had such gorgeous, big eyes. Long eyelashes, high cheekbones. Those lips, dark and full and sensual. A seductive image appeared in his head, of her white teeth biting her lower lip as she moaned in pleasure…pleasure he’d bring her.

He rolled his sleeves to his elbows, and her eyes dropped to his forearms, widening farther. She must like what she saw; her lips parted just a little.

Perhaps she needed a little encouragement. A little care. He could give her that. He knew well how to soothe women in distress, how to make them feel safe.

He just needed to play with her a little. Make sure she knew she was safe and that he’d take a good care of her.

He dipped his hand into the bathtub to his sleeve. She gasped and shifted away. “What are you doing?”

One corner of his mouth rose in amusement. “I’m searching.”

He moved his hand along the bottom of the dark tub, water splashing softly. He gently brushed his knuckles against her thigh, and she jerked.

“Duke!” she cried out.

Ah. He liked this game. A crooked smile tugged at his lips, but he hid it. He dipped his arm even deeper and felt a cake of soap at the bottom of the tub. He picked it up and took the sea sponge from a little plate attached to the bathtub.

Very slowly, he moved the soap against the sponge, foaming it. A pleasant scent of lavender and orange oil filled his nostrils. Her thighs were dark, round silhouettes under the water. He itched to feel them wrapped around his waist.

“You cannot be a virgin, madam,” he said as he kept rubbing the soap against the sponge over and over. “You were married already. And I told you this is a real marriage for me, in every way. Why not enjoy this?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Good. She had no objections.

He chuckled and laid the soap on the plate, then leaned over and lazily dragged the sponge up her ankle towards her knee. Her eyelashes fluttered, her eyes darkening, her mouth opening slightly. Ah. She liked it.

He liked it, too. Desire brought blood to his cock as he watched her chest rising and falling quickly. He could see the pretty little dip between her breasts. Her shoulders were round and delicate. The soft line of her collarbone so lovely. Her neck was elegant. How he wished to run his tongue up that neck, licking droplets of water off, inhaling her clean, feminine scent. How he longed to sink both of his hands down into the soapy water and slide them along her curves, which were blurry in the cloudy water.

“You like my touch,” he said as he slowly brushed the sponge from her knee and down the side of her thigh. “I can see. If you like this, you’ll love it when I touch you in all the right places.”

She swallowed hard, her breath accelerating even more. “You’re mistaken, I’m simply cold.”

“Cold?” He smirked as he removed the sponge and foamed it again. Then he stood up and walked behind her. He leaned down and ran the sponge over her feminine shoulders, his other hand slowly massaging them as he went. Such soft skin. She wasn’t muscular for a pig farmer’s wife. Not that he knew, but weren’t farm folk supposed to be strong and sturdy from all the manual work?

“You’re not cold, Duchess,” he said. “You’re about to get very, very hot.”

He dipped the sponge into the water, rinsing the soap out. As he squeezed water from the sponge onto her shoulders, he imagined pulling her out of the bath and picking her up, having her wet legs wrap around his waist. Desire licked at his cock, bringing heat and hardening him almost beyond bearing.

He stepped in front of her, leaned down, hands braced on either edge of the tub, and kissed her. She tasted like she looked. Sweet. Forbidden. So delicious, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop.

As he dipped his tongue into her mouth, stroking her tongue, he felt her melt and sag into his lips. A small, sensual whimper escaped her throat, setting his blood to boil. Ah, the minx. She wanted him like he wanted her. He craved to explore her, to see if she was as soft and smooth down there, if her breasts felt as amazing as the rest of her skin.

He’d never wanted a woman like he wanted her. His erection throbbed and stood ready.

He glided his hand down her cheek, down her neck, and farther down… But once his hand reached her chest, she shivered and froze and pulled away, wide eyes blinking fast.

He pulled back, too, still aroused, still wanting her. But he wasn’t going to take anything she wasn’t willing to give.

“What would it take for you to let me go?” she asked, her voice firm.

He pulled in a long breath. He felt anger grazing against his nerves. Why was she so eager to leave? Was he so disagreeable to her? “I do not know that I want to let you go, Duchess. I promise not to hurt you and not to do anything against your will. I want you. You’re my wife, and I want to lay you on that bed and make you mine and bring you your release.” She blinked at that, her cheeks reddening to the color of ripe apples. Good. “Over and over, madam. But I will not force you nor will I ask again. Say just one word and I will retreat.”

She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. “Do retreat, Duke.”

He stepped back and nodded, his erection still stubbornly lifting his robe. Her fear…her concern… She behaved like a virgin even though she clearly wasn’t one.

Then he remembered her husband…and the way he had looked at her with such malice. A thought struck him dead. “Wait…did the bastard hurt you? Your former husband?”

She shook her head. “No. Not like that.”

“How then?”

She released a quick, shaky breath and pressed out a smile. “He shouldn’t be any of your concern, Your Grace. As I said, I will gladly work off the price you paid or leave your home and not bother you again.”

His chest tightened, and his stomach twisted. He understood her wish to protect her body. But he was willing to give her, a woman of a lower class, the best life. He thought he would rescue her. Help her.

And yet, despite his status and his money, he couldn’t even convince a woman who needed him, to stay with him.

Of course she wouldn’t want to stay with him. Why would she?

He was the product of a marriage that was full of resentment and lies. His mama and papa had despised each other. They had both been unfaithful and didn’t hide it.

And what was worse, it was all his fault. He was the reason for their unhappiness.

Well, he still needed her, no matter how much she despised him. “Not bother me again?” He scoffed. “We’ll see about that. We have a ball to attend in a few days, and I intend to bring you as my new wife and introduce you to Lady Isabella and all of polite society. Be ready.”

The look of shock on her face didn’t stop him. He couldn’t bear looking at her a moment longer.

He hurried out of her bedchamber faster than if he was chased by wild dogs. And all he could think was, what was wrong with him?

Even a swineherd’s wife would rather be poor and with a man who treated her badly than married to him.

But what did he expect? Just like his father, he’d make his wife unhappy, and sooner or later she’d be driven to escape.