Page 51 of The Duke's Only Desire

“No,” she interrupted, so fiercely her voice turned low and heated in its frustration. The single word whipped surprise through him. “Is this place my home? Or is everyone here under the belief that I’m simply wasting time until spring when they hope I’ll flee, like the previous duchess?”

Shay straightened beneath her accusation. The pain was visible on her face.

“I am not some pretty little doll whose only purpose in life is needlework and watercolors.” Frustration practically dripped from her. “I want to make this place into a real home for us.”

“I know that.” Very well, too. Her optimistic spirit had always been one of the aspects that had most attracted him to her. “Butthe staff are set in their ways and need time to adjust to having a new mistress.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and leveled a furious stare at him. “What’syourexcuse, then? Do you want to be my husband, or areyousimply wasting time until spring—” Her voice cracked with emotion as she repeated her earlier words. “When you hope I’ll flee?”

The question drove a barrage of daggers into his gut, yet he somehow managed to ask quietly, “Is that what you want?”

“No! I want to create a real home here with my husband and our children.” She swiped the back of her hand across her eyes, and the vulnerable gesture nearly undid him. “What I don’t understand is why you don’t want that, too.”

I do want that, more than you’ll ever know.“I married you because I wanted to protect you.”

“Liar.”

He clenched his jaw. “All I want is an amicable marriage.”

She stepped forward to close the distance between them and repeated, “Liar.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and brought her mouth so close to his that her warm breath pulsed across his lips with every angry inhalation she took. He froze, unable to bring himself to move away from her.

“I’m not stupid, Shay, nor so innocent as not to notice the way you look at me, how you stare longingly at my mouth as if you want to kiss me—No, as if you want to devour me. Like you’re doing right now.”

Damnation.His eyes snapped up to hers.

“I know you so well that I can feel when you catch your breath whenever I even barely brush against you. Right now, I can practically feel your pulse racing, and I haven’t even touched you.” Her voice lowered to a throaty rasp, as if daring him to disagree. “What would you do if I did touch you, hmm? If I giveyou the same pleasures you gave me, only to pull away as you did? Would you let me go?”

She placed her palm on his chest. The innocent touch scalded him through to his soul, and his breath hitched before he could stop it, proving her right.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want more of the pleasures we’ve shared,” she murmured, “because I certainly do.”

Her whispered confession heatedly tickled his lips. It took every bit of restraint he possessed not to grab her and crush her to him, to plunder her mouth and shove his hands beneath her thick coat to feel the warmth of her soft body.

“Don’t you remember how your hands trembled when you caressed me, how wonderful it felt when your fingers moved inside me? It was heavenly.”

No. It was torture. He’d thought of little else than of touching her intimately again like that, of spreading her thighs wide beneath him and burying himself deep within her tight warmth. His restless dreams had been filled with her and all the pleasures he wanted to take in her, all the intimacies he wanted to teach her, all her beauty engulfing him…all the absolution he wanted her to bestow.

But when he woke, he was still as scarred and empty as before, still just as desolate.

Her fingers curled possessively into his waistcoat. “I have yearned for that same pleasure during every minute apart from you, hoping you would claim me again with your touch and your kisses. I want that more than anything, and I know you want it, too.”

He couldn’t let her continue. If she kept whispering those things to him, she would break him, simply shatter him like a pane of glass in the walls around them. “You want a monster for a husband, Sophie?” He took her hand by the wrist and lifted it to the scarred side of his face, to drag her fingertips overthe leathery ridges. “You want this face coming to you in the darkness, like something from a nightmare?”

Worse—the body that went with it. When she saw the full extent of what the fire had done, she would be horrified. He’d never be able to live with the look of horror he knew he’d see on her face. Or one of unbearable pity.

“I don’t care what you look like! I never have. It’s not your face I fell in love with. It was your goodness, your bravery, your kindness—dear God, Shay, that above all! Where did that man go? I want him back.” Her voice hitched. “I wanthim.”

“That man died in the fire.”

Her voice hitched as she repeated, so softly this time that he could barely hear her, “Liar.”

She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his scarred cheek to his ear. His eyes squeezed shut against the torment of her soft lips. Yet for all her gentleness, he could feel the anger still pounding away inside her, like hot coals ready to flame into a fire.

“But I know the truth,” she whispered. “For all your lies, Iknowyou love me.”

She stood back and took his hand, then pulled something from her coat pocket and placed it on his palm. He stared down at the little metal bird she’d slipped into his coat pocket during their sleigh ride.