Chapter Six
Later that night.
Anne breathed deeply a few times before she came into the dining room. The last thing she wanted to do was share the evening meal with her new husband, especially after he’d coupled with her regardless of the fact she’d not given him her full consent.
To be fair, she’d not given him agreement at all, even if he had sent her flying with his fingers and body. She hated herself for that. Why had her body betrayed her? Out of everything it could have done, why did she have to find satisfaction during something so humiliating?
Of course, she also hated her new husband, for he didn’t need to act in such a beastly manner, but he had.
And he didn’t seem the least bit appalled by his behavior, which made her furious.
It didn’t matter that she was forever wed to the jackanapes; she wanted no part of his life.
Once she’d avenged her brother’s death or at least made Cunningham responsible for it in front of the right people, she would run away.
To where and how, she didn’t know, but she wouldn’t stay here, not where she wasn’t respected or even wanted.
“Do you plan to stand in the corridor all night, Mrs. Cunningham, or will you be joining me?” Annoyance threaded through her husband’s voice from within the room.
Drat.
Stifling a huff, Anne came into the room, and then immediately frowned when the “Duke” of Udolpho didn’t have the wherewithal to even stand or pull out her chair. And from the looks of things, he was already well into pushing himself into his cups for the night.
Perfect.
Her thoughts were now being inundated with sarcasm.
This wasn’t how she wanted to live, but it seemed he was bound and determined to bring out the worst in her.
“I’m not hungry,” she said as she pulled out a chair and then sat near his location.
Drat him, but he smelled heavenly, like freshly driven snow mixed with a hint of evergreen trees and just a whiff of peppermint.
Perhaps he’d bathed after that last incident.
What was more, though he’d dressed in the requisite dark evening clothes, his cravat had been loosened, and his black hair had a ruffled look as if he’d shoved his fingers through it at some point.
“You need to eat to keep up your strength. After all it is our wedding night.”
Heat slapped at her cheeks as a footman came in with an older man she assumed was the butler.
Between the two of them, they set out a soup course.
Despite her statement, the scent of the creamy White Soup made her mouth water and her stomach growl with hunger.
Usually made with veal and vegetables cooked down, it was thickened with bread and sometimes almonds with some cream at the finish, and though it wasn’t her favorite, the chill in the air suddenly had her craving the warmth of it.
But first, her husband needed a dressing down.
“We will not be engaging in intimacy of any sort tonight.” What he’d done to her at teatime seemed a thousand miles away, but the slight protest of her muscles assured her it had happened a mere four hours ago.
Although, having her innocence stolen wasn’t the trauma she’d always been taught to fear or survive.
Shadows crossed his face. He lifted his glass half full of brandy in an odd salute. “We’ve consummated the marriage already, this is true, but that hasn’t quelled my need.”
Did the man have no manners? “May you choke on a chicken bone to save me the effort of driving a blade through your black heart.”
He narrowed his eyes. “God, you’re a scare.”
“And you’re an arse, so it would appear we’re evenly matched.”
For long moments, he watched her with those eyes the color of dark coffee. “You trapped me into this marriage.”
Anne shook her head. “Why would I do that? From all accounts, you’re the devil and not even a duke. I’ve gotten the raw end of the stick, and the likelihood of me being accepted in society as your wife is slim.” Thank goodness she still had the clinic.
His shrug only lifted one of his shoulders. “Then leave.” Then he traded his brandy glass for his spoon and tucked in.
“And go where? I doubt you hold other properties.” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Besides, I’d still be married to you.”
“Unless you kill me, Mrs. Cunningham.”
“Indeed.” With the shake of her head she added, “Since we are married, you might as well refer to me as Anne.”
“Fine.” He nodded. “My name is Broderick, but my friends refer to me as Dante. It’s a decidedly devilish name and suits me more than the latter.”
“That’s too bad. Broderick is a lovely name.” And it was one not heard often. Would she dare to call him that?
Silence brewed between them. There was nothing else for it than to partake of the soup, that smelled quite appetizing, and tasted even better. Except for the knots of worry in her belly and the annoyance that climbed into her chest, it might have been a lovely start to dinner.
But then he spoke, and ruined it.
“So, will you try again?” he asked, keeping his gaze on his bowl.
She frowned. “Try to do what?”
“Kill me.” There was an odd hopefulness in his expression she didn’t understand.
Surely, he didn’t want off this mortal coil? Why did he have to prove so interesting? She took in another spoonful of soup. “Not unless you tell me the truth about what happened between you and my brother.”
“I don’t fucking know your brother!” The man followed the exclamation by swallowing the remainder of his brandy in one gulp, and wincing as it went down.
“Liar!” Once more, as her anger welled and filled her chest, Anne threw her silverware at him, quickly followed by her wineglass. It smashed against the wall behind him. Still filled with rage and confusion, she hurled her bowl at him, which bounced off his chest to land soup down on his lap.
“What the hell?” Her husband sprang to his feet. With a growl, he dismissed the butler and footman. “Stop that. Those things are expensive. I don’t have the blunt to keep replacing shit you break.”
It was possibly the first honest thing he’d said to her since they’d said vows. “Then stop talking. Everything you say is bad for the digestion.”
Broderick slammed his brandy glass onto the table. “That’s it. Let’s employ your smart mouth on something more worthwhile than an argument.”
She eyed him warily, for he prowled toward her with intense determination in his eyes. “Meaning?”
“Just this.” Before she could react or say anything else, he drew alongside her, yanked her out of her chair, and then drew her around the table to the other side, well out of the way of the broken mess.
“Let me go.” She wrenched her arm from his grip.
“Down you go.” With a hand on her shoulder, he forced her onto her knees.
“Suck me off. Those kissable lips of yours will look quite lovely wrapped around my cock.” As he spoke, he manipulated his frontfalls and when his length sprang from the fabric, he took himself in hand, tapped the tip against her lips.
Dear heavens, I hate this man.
Yet, even as she thought that, curiosity chased through her lower belly, for she remembered what his engorged shaft had felt like moving inside her body.
What would happen if he managed to pull her down into the dark, carnal world he inhabited?
That couldn’t be all they two had in common, could it?
Still, Anne eyed his length with interest and a bit of fear.
Forcing a heavy swallow into her throat to encourage moisture, she shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Do it.” His eyes glittered in the candlelight. There was something both desperate and pleading about the shadows there. “You made this particular bed when you sought to seduce me. Now you can lie in it.” The growl in his voice had gooseflesh popping on her skin.
“But I’ve never done this before.” Not that she was opposed, but she would have preferred if he’d asked.
“Doesn’t matter.” Broderick grabbed her head between his hands and forced her in front of his bobbing member. “If you want a war, you’ve got one… Anne. I only wanted to be left alone, but then you came along, and now I’m stuck with a wife.”
Well, he wasn’t wrong. She moistened her lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. We were both caught up in a scandal neither of us deserved, and I only wanted answers.”
For the space of a few heartbeats, their gazes met and held. A bit of understanding was exchanged between them, but the tension still crackled and grew.
“You need to understand that you’ve drawn the ire of a disreputable duke from Club Damnation.
” His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow.
“We are who we are because society has rejected us in some way, so we ceased playing by their rules.” The expression on his face sent chills into her blood.
“If I’m to suffer through this farce of a union, so shall you. Best square with it as I need to do.”
She shifted on her knees to a more comfortable position, for his request wasn’t unreasonable. “Why? Surely you won’t say something inane like due to Christmastide.”
“Hardly.” Broderick shook his head. “I detest the holiday, but there is nowhere for us to go because of our circumstances as well as the time of year, so unless we find that peace, unless we kill each other, strife is our future. And frankly, I’ve already lived a lifetime of hate and violence and killing. I’d rather not attract more.”
Shock went through her chest from the unguarded admission.
What had happened in his life to bring him to this pass?
Was he only honest now because he was in his cups?
And more to the point, why the devil did he have to be correct?
For long moments, she watched him, then finally nodded.
She couldn’t argue with his logic, for she’d had a part in all this as well.
“Agreed, but we need to talk like civilized people soon.”
He nodded as he pumped his rigid length with his hand. “Now do what I’ve told you.”
“But I thought—”