Chapter 9
Nine
Isobel stared after the Duke of Foxdrey, a foul taste in the back of her mouth. Her mind felt like it was spinning. She couldn’t allow him to leave after what he said to her.
Calling himself my savior? Who does he think he is?
With that thought stewing, she stormed after him, not bothering to acknowledge Father as he kept drinking, and ignoring the other emotions that did not suit her—her curiosity, her frustration, and most of all, the thrill of wanting to be closer to him a moment longer.
Isobel hurried through the hall, meeting him in the foyer. “Your Grace.”
“Ah.” The Duke turned around with a smile, hands tucked deep into his pockets, dark hair slightly tousled like he had run his hand through it. “I was wondering when you might turn up.”
She sucked in a breath, stopping in her tracks. It wasn’t the first time that she noticed he was a handsome man. But seeing him like this, relaxed and standing in her home gave her a glimpse of what their future could be.
“Are you going to throw a pillow at me, or are you going to yell at me?” he asked, tone teasing. “I prefer the yelling, but if you want to grab a pillow, I’ll be happy to wait.”
Isobel thought about it for just a moment, but that would be giving into the baiting he was so obviously trying to do. If they were to be married, she would have to learn not to rise to all of the irritating things he said.
“You should know that this marriage is not you saving me. I am accepting you as my husband for the sake of paying my father’s debts and for no other reasons.”
The Duke chuckled, pacing closer to her. “You did choose me though. You picked between me and the brothel.”
“I didn’t know you heard that last part of our private conversation.” Isobel’s cheeks burned as she glanced over her shoulder at the other end of the hall, waiting for the moment when Father would come looking for her to brag about his success in finding her a good husband.
“Your father’s voice carried down the hall.” He paused. “And, I didn’t see a purpose in humiliating you.” The Duke stood a little taller, the loose posture disappearing. “But whether you want to admit it or not, you’re going to benefit from our union.”
“I wouldn’t hold your breath.” She turned, prepared to go back to Father and try to convince him to put down the bottle and perhaps go take care of settling some accounts now that his debt was forgiven.
But then, on an impulse, she turned back around, eyeing the Duke one more time.
“Actually, hold your breath. It will spare us both a long marriage.”
He laughed and shook his head, eyes shining bright as they roamed up and down her body before landing on her eyes. “You’ll come around to the union eventually.”
“Your confidence is astounding.” She shook her head, putting her hands on her hips. “It is truly amazing.”
“I’m glad to hear you find me so spectacular, wife-to-be. I should think that in time your admiration of me will only grow.”
“I don’t admire you at all and I doubt I ever will.” It was a lie. She admired the way he saved Joan, the way he kept Father in line.
For that, he had all of her admiration, even though she wished more than anything that she didn’t need him in her life.
“To be honest with you, I expected this reaction, Miss Leyton.” The Duke smiled, hands coming out of his pockets, arms crossing over his chest. He shrugged one shoulder.
“I didn’t expect anything else from a woman who believes her only choices in life are between a cruel father and a cruel husband.
Tell me, if you believe me to be vicious, then why did you allow me to kiss you that night? Why did you agree to the marriage?”
“You’ve played your hand well, Your Grace, and if you want to see my cards, then allow me to show them.” She moved closer to him, and once again, she felt like she had the power between them.
He watched her every move, his gaze molten. When his hands dropped to his side, she thought that for just a moment he was going to reach for her.
And she didn’t know if she had the strength to push him away.
Isobel tipped her chin higher, looking up to meet his gaze. “I did not make this choice out of my own free will, just as I did not choose to walk down the aisle toward an abhorrent Scottish lord. I am a woman, and therefore my decisions are not my own.”
“And yet, you chose to chase me out here and give me a piece of your mind. Surely that must indicate some level of freedom.”
“I will not thank you for allowing me to speak my mind. People should be allowed to say what they wish within reason.” Isobel’s hands drifted to her hips once more. “Right now, ruin looms over me like a storm, and my sister’s happiness and a better future for her are in your hands.”
“You still made the decision to accept the proposal.”
“Because too much of the proposal relies on other people.” Her chest tightened as she looked away from him, just needing a moment. “If it were up to me, I would be in a monastery right now and I would never have to deal with another man. My life would be my own.”
“I think you are being unfair in your assessment that women do not have more choices and power.” The Duke stepped closer to her, his chest nearly brushing against hers.
“While I agree that there are limitations in place which I do not agree with, there are women who defy those confines every single day. They may pay for that defiance, but at least they didn’t live their lives sitting on their haunches like a scared dog. ”
Isobel recoiled. “Are you accusing me of being a scared dog?”
“Have you noticed that you can give me a verbal lashing and yet you allow your father to speak to you in whichever way he wishes?”
She paused, tongue darting out to wet her lips. There was nothing she could argue against his point. He was right. She had no problem speaking her mind with him, but when it came to standing up to Father, it always seemed like someone had silenced her.
I’m silenced because it keeps Father from going after Joan and making her feel horrible about herself.
“And now, Miss Leyton, I have to ask, are those motives of yours, the ones that have to do with your sister, the same motives that have pushed you into my arms and away from the monastery, just a few days ago?” His fingers brushed against her waist, sending a shiver down her spine.
When his fingers curled in the fabric of her dress like he intended to pull her closer, she had to force herself to take a deep breath.
Isobel took a large step back. “I’m far from being in your arms.”
Though she wanted to be. She wanted to forget where she was and repeat their kisses. It felt like she needed his hands on her body, wanted to feel secure like she did when he had taken her in his arms.
The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement as he followed her, reaching out to tuck a curl behind her ear, making her heart skip a beat. “And what of the kiss then? The kiss which you returned? Did that not make you hesitate in your decision to become a nun, even a little?”
“No,” she snapped, though her cheeks warmed. It was another lie. A huge one. She had thought of little else but her troubles and that kiss.
He chuckled, following her, taking another step forward for each one she took back in the name of putting more distance between them. The way he stalked her down the hall made her heart pound, blood rushing.
“If it meant that little to you,” he said, his tone low as her back hit a wall at the end of the hall, his hand finding her waist, “then why don’t we repeat it? A little test to see if you’re as unaffected as you pretend to be.”
She bit the inside of her cheek. Isobel plastered her hands to the wall behind her. Though it was wrong, she wanted his lips on hers again. She needed to feel that closeness with him, needed to know there was one person who didn’t beat her back into her place. Who wanted her.
He’s a rake, Isobel. He wants everyone he thinks he can have.
The Duke braced one forearm on the wall beside her head, his body leaning into hers. Heat radiated from him, his body too close to hers. There was a scent wafting from him that reminded her of the forest after a fresh rain.
The warmth of his breath ghosted over her ear. “You’re wound too tight, wild cat. I could do things to you that would have pleasure taking over. You wouldn’t be able to think clearly enough to feel stress.”
His lips trailed along her pulse, giving a light suck that had her snapping her thighs together as close as possible, trying to ignore the heat building. He chuckled against her skin as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.
“You want to give in to it,” he said, voice raspy, his hand climbing higher, thumb sweeping over the tight bodice just below her breast and sending sparks dancing through her veins.
She swallowed hard, her chest heaving just a little. “You don’t know what I want.”
She let out a deep breath, torn between putting her hands on his chest to push him away or pull him closer.
“You want this,” he said, his voice low and husky, mouth hovering inches from hers. His thumb still brushed just below her breast in the most tantalizing circles. “You want me, even if you can’t admit it to yourself. You would never fit in at a monastery, darling.”
Isobel couldn’t breathe. She didn’t want to risk breaking the spell between them.
He was right though. With all his teasing, she knew it was harder to resist him.
If she went to the monastery now, he would be plaguing her mind constantly, making her wonder what would’ve happened if she had just given in to him.
And then he chuckled and stepped back. “But I’m an honest man now. Traditional. You won’t get to enjoy my body until after the marriage ceremony.”
She bit down on her bottom lip, trying not to whimper at the sudden loss of his body on hers.
“You’re a wretched man.”
He reached out, fingers trailing over the side of her face before hooking under her jaw and tipping her face up. “And, just to honor your freewill like the kind husband I am, I’ll allow you to beg me to give you what you want.”
She couldn’t think straight enough to argue. Not when he was so close to her, his fingers on her skin sending tingles through her body.
“I’m never going to beg for you,” she said, breathless as his gaze locked with hers while waves of desire crashed over her.
“Care to wager on it?” He smirked. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip. “I never lose.”