Page 22 of A Duchess Untouched

With a strangled gasp, she cried, “Please excuse me. I… I feel unwell!”

She could no longer hold back the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. Her attempt at seduction was not only a failure but seemed to mark the end of it all, and she knew she would not be able to face her husband’s family anytime soon.

She ran out of the dining hall and did not stop until she was in the safety of her own rooms. Only the worst part was that she would have to try again tomorrow.

Chapter 11

“Had she always been so maddeningly beautiful?”

Matthew was clearly alone, or he would not have dared to ask this question aloud. Frustration gripped him as he clutched his pistol, wishing for a chance to vent his confusion.

It was impossible to rid his mind of thoughts of Selina. She had managed to consume him. How could he have not noticed how magnificent she was before? In his head, he had taken a wife that the ton would approve of: meek, mild, pretty, and agreeable. He had thought she was a soft lady who would agree with everything her grandmother said. A couple of days with her had proven him so wrong.

She was a siren, and the dress she had worn to dinner the night before had been nothing short of scandalous. She would claim that only family was present, so there was no harm in it; he had no reason to be jealous. And yet…

He could not shake the memory of her leg sliding against Oliver’s beneath the table, though he wondered, hoped, if it had been an accident, a mistake meant for him. Even so, the image clung to him, making his head ache. He kept seeing her breasts in the candlelight, the flush that had crept along her skin the moment she had been caught. He wondered whether she had noticed his control fraying at the edges.

If not for Harleigh Quinten’s drunken behavior, he would have already flung his duchess over his shoulder and carried her to his bedchamber.

Who would have thought his own wife would feel like sin incarnate?

Matthew pulled the trigger. It was what he had come out here to do, after all. The roads he traveled were not always safe, and a man who could not defend himself was a liability to more than himself. The shot tore through the morning air and struck the target dead center. This time, watching the splinters scatter gave him no satisfaction at all. Meanwhile, Maximus ran in excitement toward the target, looking for his prey.

Matthew could not even concentrate on that. He was still thinking about Selina’s foot on Oliver’s leg. What had she meant by it?

Matthew loved his brother and would willingly lay down his life for him. Besides, his younger brother was an honorable man and would never look at his wife like that. But what if his mother was trying to hand the duchy to Oliver and have him marry Selina to ensure the line of succession continued? What if everyone involved regretted that he was the one who married Selina?

Worse, what if his wife preferred his brother over him?

It was not difficult to imagine something like this happening. Oliver was kind and soft-spoken. Still, he was the one who had stayed behind, the one Selina had conversed with more and had gotten to know. The thought brought a possessive rage within Matthew. He had never felt anything close to this almost feral jealousy. It shocked him.

With a frustrated growl, Matthew reached for another lead ball from his leather pouch. He pushed it down the barrel angrily. Then, he cocked the hammer back and raised the pistol with one firm hand.

“One more shot, Maximus.”

Maximus barked in response. Matthew’s eyes drifted toward his target once more, a round piece of wood painted white and hammered against the oak tree. The target just above it had already been annihilated by his earlier effort.

He hoped the last shot might carry off some of the anger and jealousy still sitting in his chest. He doubted it would.

It fired.

The recoil jolted him. It felt stronger than he expected, and the wooden target was destroyed. Then came a shriek. It made all the blood drain from his face. Nobody should have been near this spot. That was why he preferred discharging his pistol here.

Maximus suddenly bolted. He barked excitedly, following the source of the scream through the hedge.

“Maximus! Heel!” Matthew bellowed, looking at his pistol once before placing it in its open case at the foot of a tree.

He followed his dog through the tangled branches, but Maximus was much faster. Had he smelled something? Matthew almost expected an intruder, or perhaps a beast of prey. Then, he heard another sound, something familiar. It was… chuckling.

“Stop licking me!”

What is she doing?

Matthew jogged toward the source of the sound and saw his wife on the ground, with his mastiff licking her face avidly.

“What are you doing?” Matthew demanded, even as he approached her to help her up.

His thoughts were still tangled in the memory of the night before, jealousy and desire warring in his chest. The moment her hand touched his, a jolt shot up his arm. This woman. He had not expected her to have such a hold over him. What would have happened if he had given her the chance to show him who she truly was before he had left all those years ago?