“Admit it,” she whispered as he came to stand in front of her, her voice suddenly weak. “Admit that you only wanted my dowry.”
“I cannot,” he said, holding her gaze, willing her to see the truthfulness of his words, “for it would be a lie.” Without another conscious thought, he closed the small distance between them, his hands coming around her waist, drawing her against him.
Startled, she drew in a sharp breath, but did not try to free herself from his hold. “I do not believe you,” she whispered, her breathing quickening as she lifted her hands and placed them on the arms that held her. “Why would you deny it?” Although her words doubted him, Derek could see the underlying desire to have them be true in the way she held his eyes.
Tightening his hold on her, Derek lowered his head to hers, his gaze unwavering. “I swear that I did not once think about your dowry,” he whispered, feeling her shiver in his arms as his breath tickled her skin. “However, I cannot deny that from the moment I saw you I dreamed of getting my hands on you.”
Her fingers dug into his arms as she stared at him. “Why?” For a moment, hope rang in her voice before she briefly closed her eyes and shook her head as though seeking to clear it. When she looked at him again, her gaze had hardened. “No matter what you say, I cannot believe that a man, any man, but especially one in your position, could honestly bring himself to disregard the fortune attached to my name. Therefore, what you say cannot be true.”
Gritting his teeth, Derek growled at her stubbornness. “I do not need, nor do I wish for, anyone’s charity. Although you may discount my life’s achievements, everything I have, I have earned by my own hands’ work.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her head up as his gaze burnt into hers. “I swear I will not touch a penny of your bloody dowry.”
Chapter Six ? A Heartfelt Request
He was so close, and his hands held her so tightly, their heat warming her chilled skin, that Madeline could barely think straight. All she could think about was how close his mouth was to hers.
Swallowing, she licked her lips, wishing she could dare believe the words of passion he had whispered. If only he would kiss her. Just once. Once was enough.
Not too long ago, she had dreamed of the moment Lord Townsend would finally kiss her, but then everything had fallen apart. Now, she was married to a man who had no intention of…
Duty.
That word had shaken him. He had acted as though she had insulted him. But was it not their shared duty to produce a child, an heir to his barony? Did he not want this?
Do you? A small voice whispered.
Madeline closed her eyes, realising that she did not know what she wanted any longer. Everything had changed. What had been possible before was impossible now. Her heart and mind were in an uproar, her thoughts scattered and unrecognisable. All she knew in that moment was that she wanted her first kiss.
For so long, she had waited, cautioned herself against any kind of passion for it could lead to her ruin.
And now, despite everything, ruin had found her nonetheless.
Her dreams and hopes lay shattered at her feet. The only thing that was left to her was to claim her kiss. If not from Lord Townsend, then she would simply have to make do with her husband.
After all, she deserved a kiss.
In the very moment, Madeline opened her eyes, determination filling her chest, her husband released her chin and took a step back. “Whatever you may think of me,” he said, his voice once calmer and collected as though the passion he had spoken with before had been a mere illusion, “I assure you that it was never my intention to trap you into marriage.” He nodded as though for emphasis, then took another step back, the gap between them growing into an abyss. “Tomorrow, I shall travel to Huntington House. It is in dire need of repairs, and unfortunately, our wedding has delayed me long enough.”
Although reason counselled that he had not meant his words the way they sounded to her, Madeline felt riled once more. “I do apologise if our marriage is such an inconvenience for you.”
His gaze narrowed at the hatred dripping from her voice. However, instead of retorting with equal fervour, he simply turned around and strode toward the door.
Strangely enough, his failure to respond was utterly devastating to Madeline. She felt dismissed as though she was not worthy of his attention, his time. “None of this would have happened,” she called to his receding back, anger heating her cheeks, “if you had not followed me. Now, I am trapped in a marriage to the wrong man.”
Instantly, he froze, his shoulders tensing as he drew in a slow breath. Madeline had known that her words would hurt him, and yet, she had flung them at him, feeling the sting of his rejection as acutely as the pain she had now forced on him.
Slowly, he turned to look at her, his dark gaze ablaze as it drilled into her. And then he moved toward her, and she found herself retreating once more until her back was firmly pressed against the wall.
Excitement rushed through her veins, and she could not contain the inexplicable delight that seized her as his arms pulled her against him yet again. Staring into his fiery eyes, she wondered about the man who was her husband, a man who seemed quietly respectful one moment, dangerously threatening the next.
Not to her life.
But to her heart. Her principles. Her determination.
Tension holding his jaw rigid, he glared at her, and Madeline could see that a battle waged within him. What was it that angered him so? After all, he could not possibly be jealous that she had wanted to wed another man.
“You do not know of what you speak,” he finally snarled, utter disgust hanging on his voice. “Townsend is a far cry from the man you deem him to be.”
Madeline flinched at his words, feeling the sting of his insult, and cursed him for thinking her incapable of judging another’s character reliably. Holding his gaze, she gave back with equal measure. “It is you who sees only what he wants to see,” she retorted, her gaze unwavering as it held his. “Otherwise, you would have seen with one glance that he is the man I wished to marry…out of my own free will.”
Standing so close, Madeline noticed his muscles tensing, all but felt his hands ball into fists and his gaze burn with anger. And yet, there was a touch of guilt on his features that immediately spilled over and onto her, weighing down her heart heavily…and rather inconveniently.
For it cooled her own outrage and indignation, and for a moment, she felt tempted to pull him into her arms and soothe his worries.
Her change of heart might have shown on her face for his own features began to soften as though in response. He exhaled slowly, and for a long moment, his gaze held hers as they both seemed to let go of the anger with which they had spoken only minutes before. Then he swallowed, the right corner of his mouth tugged up a little as though in imitation of a smile. “I bid you a good night, my lady,” he whispered, his voice suddenly gentle.
Disappointment seized Madeline, and her mouth opened in protest.
However, no sound came out.
Nodding his head to her, he turned to go, his gaze slowly falling from hers, momentarily drifting lower and touching her lips.
Madeline inhaled a deep breath as hope and a fair amount of excitement swelled in her chest.
However, she was once again disappointed as he failed to act on the desire she had seen in his gaze and merely turned to go.
“I have a request,” Madeline blurted out before she could stop herself. Cursing under her breath for her lack of self-control, she lifted her chin, struggling with the need to appear strong and unyielding and the desire to finally know the meaning of a kiss.
Half turned away, he looked back at her over his shoulder. “A request?”
Madeline’s head slowly bobbed up and down, her voice suddenly stuck in her throat.