Chapter 15
Trembling Fire
No.
The moment that word left her lips, the Duke froze. All of his teasing, his bantering, and his taunting died off his body as if someone had submerged him in cold water.
Oh, he wanted Arabella like he rarely wanted anything in his life.
Not just tonight. He had to be honest with himself at this hour, his first night as a married man.
He had wanted her ever since that night that he drove her away from his study.
But wanting one thing was not the same as being permitted to take.
He used the same hands that were keeping her encased to push away. He took one big, deep breath as he straightened his body. He spared her dignity by not looking at her, now fully realizing the state she was in. And it was not just her dignity.
It was his restraint. He was fully aware now that Arabella was wearing only a nightgown and a half-discarded robe.
He had felt her body all the times he came close, that full, voluptuous body of hers.
She was seductive without even trying; no amount of modest clothing was able to hide the curves of her body.
And now, to see her like this, hair down, her nightgown almost transparent at the firelight…
“I see,” is all he said after straightening his well-pressed clothes.
He devoted himself to the task as if it were of utmost importance. And in reality, it was. If he didn’t manage to distract himself, he would fall on Arabella like the savage everyone claims him to be.
“I shall leave you to retire, Your Grace,” he said and bowed slightly.
She gasped audibly, and Gerald didn’t know if it was from relief or shock that he could act decently.
“Rest assured,” he said in as calm a tone as he could muster, “I will not touch you. I would like for you to feel safe in the house.”
He dared a look down at her. He needed to be sure that Arabella realized that he would never force her to sleep with him, that she was not a mere puppet for his satisfaction or his perpetuation of his line.
He was enough of a villain when he barged into her paternal home and demanded that he marry one of the daughters.
He would not allow himself to stoop so low.
Arabella didn’t want to be here. A lady as popular as her, even with her little means, would have surely found a husband that would be…
Her blue eyes looked up at him in a mixture of feelings he couldn’t decipher.
Perhaps because the tempestuous swell of her eyes couldn’t focus on one either.
He was reassured that leaving was the correct course of action.
He was making her feel uneasy, and she had quite a long day to deal with him as well.
“Have a good rest, Your Grace,” he said and bowed formally.
“Your Grace,” Arabella protested, and she stood up.
He turned to her with a deep frown. Arabella seemed to have decided on an emotion, or rather an open combination of two emotions: disbelief and anger.
“Is there anything the matter?” He asked.
“It depends. Nothing and everything are both valid answers in this situation.”
Despite the bizarre situation they were in, Gerald couldn’t help but find himself chuckling.
“That is, in fact, a correct answer to all situations, my lady,” he responded.
“But it applies admirably to ours. Where do you think you are going?”
The informal question managed to retain the smile on his face. Arabella was not a meek lady, not a quiet one. And he found himself terribly inconvenienced and intrigued at the same time. Which was, in fact, a problem.
“I am retiring for the night,” he answered her question.
“But you can’t.”
“Unless there is some physical obstacle I am not aware of,” Gerald said, almost amused, “I am sure I can manage getting to my chambers just as easily.”
“Because this is the appropriate time for one to be precise about figures of speech.”
“I wasn’t aware there was an allocated time for correct expression.”
Arabella gave him a look that was bordering on murderous, and he suddenly felt alive. He had gone from anxious about the outing, to hot leaning over her, to cold disappointment, and now to amused in seconds. He was sure that life with Arabella rarely knew a dull moment.
“I will indulge you, Your Grace,” Arabella hissed through her teeth. “What I meant to say is that you shouldn’t go.”
“I shouldn’t?” Gerald frowned. “I am pretty sure it is the exact opposite. I should absolutely go for both our sakes.”
Arabella looked at him, and he was sure at this point that she knew exactly what she meant by that. He was expecting some kind of retreat, but instead he saw resolve.
“There are,” Arabella coughed, obviously distraught, “some expectations for a couple’s first night and especially of a man of your station.”
She was speaking of marital duties. Every lady of the ton was indoctrinated in the “expectations” of her station, which distilled down to this moment. It was hard, even for a willful woman such as her, to completely escape that.
“The expectations of my station are mine to manage. You should rest. I am sure tomorrow you will need to acclimate-”
“They are also mine to manage, as you said. This is, after all, my title too now.”
Gerald had tried so hard to be polite, gentlemanly, and calm, and it seemed that Arabella wouldn’t want to have a civil conversation. So be it.
“What do you want, Arabella?”
The question seemed to really catch her off guard. She really hadn’t thought about what she wanted to do, what she wanted him to do.
“All I know is that you can’t go. It is expected of us to-”
“To hell with expectations!”
His voice thundered in the room and echoed around, making the glass on the windows shake.
“I am asking you, what do you want?”
Arabella looked down, not because she feared him, but because she didn’t know what to tell him. Beyond expectations.
“I thought so,” he said and made his way to the door.
“Your Grace!”
“I will have you know, Arabella,” he said, his back to her, his hand on the handle of her door, “that despite what you and the whole ton think, I am not a savage. I know that you are now bound to me. You swore this morning to obey me. That doesn’t mean I will enforce such rules in my household.”
Arabella stayed still as he looked at her over his shoulder.
“I will have you know, my lady,” he dared a look into those ocean blue eyes, “that I do not ruthlessly take what is not given to me.”
Arabella looked up, and the expression on those oceanic eyes was enigmatic. Gerald frowned at that deep look. He couldn’t fathom what his wife was thinking at this moment.
“Arabella,” he tried to sound calmer, “I will not even discuss this while you are unwilling.”
The door opened, and he couldn’t wait to go to his study, pour himself some whiskey, and hopefully wait for exhaustion to grant him some rest. One foot was already out of the room when he heard her voice, loud and clear.
“I am not unwilling.”
He froze on the spot. Perhaps his wife didn’t realize what she had just admitted, what that admission meant to him.
“Careful, Arabella.”
“I am sure we are way past that. I just wanted to be sure that you knew that I am not being forced or unwilling.”
The Duke contemplated whether he should allow her more time to reconsider, to be clear what exactly she was declaring to him. But he had just been gentleman enough to her, he was basically out the door.
He very slowly turned and looked into her eyes. He had never told her, and perhaps he would never, but he had never seen a bluer blue in all the world. And now, those blues were looking expectantly at him.
“Do you have any idea, Arabella, what exactly these words mean?”
He studied her flushed face, tinted pink at the cheeks, her lips swollen by the many times she had chewed upon them. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, her eyes wide. No, Arabella didn’t exactly know what she was inviting, but she knew she wanted to. And heavens helped him, he wanted her too.
“Tell me, Arabella,” he walked back into the room. “If I close this door and stay, do you know what will happen?”
Arabella didn’t answer, just bit her lip. He watched her teeth go over her plump lips, and a deep-seated hunger woke inside him. He had promised he would ask for permission for every little step, but he couldn’t keep that promise. Without asking, he closed the door behind him.
“I must warn you that if I start, if I even touch you just once, I won’t be able to stop.
So you will have one chance, and one chance only, to tell me to leave your private chambers, and we will discuss the matter on a different day.
But if you say nothing…” He finished his sentence with a low growl, rumbling from deep within his chest, a warning and a promise wrapped together in a thick layer of lust.
He expected to see fear in her eyes. Even the tiniest flicker would be enough for him to stop and leave.
But Arabella was set on being defiant tonight.
The only thing he saw in her eyes was threatening to consume and burn them both.
He was ready to scorch everything in his path just to get to her when he saw just one little fracture of apprehension.
It was not uncommon for women to be warned about their first night with a man in the bleakest of colors.
Most women had a bad experience with blood, discomfort, and pain.
Gerald realized that maybe Arabella was warned about intimacy in the same way.
He decided to follow a different strategy.
After all, Arabella was his wife in his house.
He was to touch and feel without anyone stopping him except for her.
And he intended to give her all the time she needed.
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, allowing his eyes to take in the sight of her.
All this began with the stupid contract between two drunk men.
How could he be so lucky that the subject of this contract turned out to be such a beautiful, voluptuous, defiant, utterly fascinating woman?
Perhaps some grace saw all the ugly things that had happened in his life and decided that he could have this much.
“I think it’s better,” he said and moved closer, “if we just make sure that you are used to me first.”
Gerald was not one to gloat, but he studied in an all-boys school. He knew that he was bigger than other men. The last thing he wanted was to hurt Arabella. They could always enjoy each other in different ways.
“Get used to you?” Arabella asked with such innocent confusion that Gerald almost forgot the fiery woman she could be.
His gaze drifted over her again, from those full lips down to the generous curve of her bosom, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of her nightgown.
He was very slow and deliberate as he approached her.
He didn’t want to scare her, but he wanted to make sure she knew that there was no escaping now.
“We will take this slow, Arabella,” he stood closer to her.
“Slow? But-”
He caught her chin.
“I said slow, Arabella.”
Gerald saw Arabella gulp at his command, and he smirked despite himself.
He was expecting Arabella to rebel, throw back some witty retort, but she just looked at him with those eyes filled with expectation.
What kind of gentleman would he be if he allowed his wife to stay unsatisfied on their first night together?