Page 29 of Stealing His Duchess

Her husband held up a hand, and she instinctively fell silent, glaring at him once she realized what she had done.

“I did not request it with the idea of making you into an obedient wife who bends to my whim. I think it is ideally a good time for you to tell me about the children. It is early enough not to take away from whatever plans you have for the day or reduce the time you have to spend with the children,” he explained carefully.

Once again, he was right – infuriatingly so. Still, Anna hesitated to respond, because she did not like the idea of spending more time with him than necessary – regardless of the reason. Her hesitation was clear, because he tilted his head and queried,

“Are you scared of being close to me?”

Anna scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Do not be preposterous –”

“Or… is the memory of our wedding night too vivid?”

Anna felt her words choke in her throat as a dizzying heat flooded into her cheeks.

“I-I barely recall it at all.”

“Is that so?” he asked with a smirk.

Anna was about to retort when he stood and walked to her, every step he took pulling her deeper and deeper into a pit of nervousness. When he was merely inches away from her, he reached out to her face, delicately brushing a lock of her hair that had come loose from the ribbon she had used to tie it back. Then he leaned in, his piercing gaze staring into hers, before dipping momentarily to her lips.

“I can give you a reminder, if you wish. Now, later. Whenever you would like me to.”

Anna could scarcely hear a single thought in her head above her wildly beating heart, the heat in her cheeks making it even more difficult to form a coherent statement.

Eventually, she shook her head, croaking out unsteadily,

“T-that will not be necessary.”

Barely managing to gather her wits, she pulled herself out of his reach and left his study, waiting until she was outside his study before she increased her pace back to her room.

She began breathing heavily as soon as she closed the door to her chambers behind her, pressing her hand to her chest, startled by how wildly her heart was beating.

“How ridiculous,” she muttered, fanning her cheeks in a bid to cool them. “Utterly ridiculous.”

But she was unsure if she was talking about Hudson, for making such a ludicrous offer, or herself… for considering it for a moment.

Anna descended the stairs the next morning with her spine perfectly straightened and her expression carefully arranged to look impassive. She had spent a good portion of the night convincing herself that this was the best way to face her husband. If she allowed herself even a moment of weakness toward Hudson – if she let so much as a flicker of it show upon her face – she feared what else might slip alongside it.

She was all too aware of the dangerous sensation she had felt stir in her the previous evening, standing so close to him in his study, his breath ghosting her ear, his voice low and heavy with promises she had no business wanting him to keep. She had no intention of letting him win against her once more.

No. It was safer to be cold. She could manage that much.

The matter had kept her tossing over and over into the night, her mind racing as she considered the predicament from every angle, until at last she had settled upon a simple strategy. She would be polite, she would be brief, and she would give him absolutely nothing to hold against her. It was the wisest choice she could make, and she believed she was strong enough to do it.

After all, she had birthed children and raised them for a few months without his support. She would be just fine without the flame of desire that had threatened to weaken her the night before.

She entered the dining room to find him already seated, a newspaper folded neatly beside his plate, ignored as his eyes met hers from across the room. A jolt of surprise ran through her at the thought that it seemed as though he had been waiting for her.

“You came,” he noted, looking impressed.

“You requested that I should, and I gave you my word that I would,” she sighed, settling into a chair at the other end of the table.

“Good morning,” he greeted after a few seconds, his tone carrying an ease that unsettled her even more than his anger had the day before. “I trust you slept well?”

“I slept as I do every night,” Anna replied stiffly, reaching for the toast rack without sparing him a glance.

She made a deliberately slow show of choosing a slice, spread jam over it with strokes that were more precise than required, because anything was better than allowing herself to think about the weight of his gaze on her.

After taking a bite, she glanced up to find him watching her intently with faint amusement curling around the corner of his lips, as though he was enjoying the show she was insistent on putting on. Anna found his reaction utterly infuriating, but she refused to acknowledge as much, determined to keep him from getting under her skin.