“First of all,” he said, as he came to stand in front of her, “I want you to call me Winston. You are my wife now, and I would prefer it if you addressed me by my given name.”
Vanessa swallowed. This close, he towered over her, and his large, tall frame made her feel small, delicate, and fragile. It made her want to feel what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms.
The light from the fireplace was flickering off of his face, creating deep shadows that only heightened his mystery. And she could also smell his scent, a combination of tobacco and woodsmoke and bergamot. She breathed it in, and her eyes flickered closed.
When she opened them again, she noticed how his chest glistened in the warm firelight, smooth and muscular, and she felt her stomach tighten.
“Would that be all right?” he asked in a low voice. “If you called me Winston?”
“Yes,” she choked out. “You may call me Vanessa as well.”
He smiled kindly at her, and she felt some of her nervousness fade.
“Second,” he added after a moment, “I believe I know why you are here.”
She flushed even deeper, looking down at her feet in embarrassment. To her surprise, he caught her by the chin and brought her eyes back to meet his.
“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said. “But I will not be requiring any of those wifely duties from you.”
“You won’t?” she repeated, astonished. Without those wifely duties, what was he even getting out of this marriage? “But… What about children? And the comfort of having a wife?”
The Duke—Winston—shook his head. “I did not marry you for children or for the comfort of having a wife. I married you because otherwise you would have faced a terrible fate as the wife of Lord Langdon. However, you do not owe me anything. I chose to marry you of my own free will. And I require nothing in return.”
I require nothing in return.
“That… is a novel concept,” she managed to say.
The Duke—Winston—tilted his head to one side. “Is it?”
“Usually, there are requirements of a young lady,” Vanessa said, lowering her gaze. “Sacrifices one must make in order to further one’s family’s reputation. A young lady is only as useful as she marries well. Her marriage brings honor to her family and wealth to her husband. It cements the lines of succession. I am used to thinking of myself as having many things required of me. Especially in marriage.”
Winston studied her for a moment, his gaze serious. “Well, I meant what I told you at your father’s house: in this marriage, you will have your freedom. Nothing is required of you that you do not want to do.” He hesitated. “There is just one thing I ask of you.”
“Yes?” she asked, with interest.
“That you do not go beyond the woods to the south of the estate where they become cliffs.”
Vanessa blinked in surprise. “Whyever not?” she asked.
A small frown appeared on his lips. “It is dangerous,” he said shortly. “No one could survive the fall, and even if they did, the sea is so cold it would kill you almost at once.”
Vanessa felt a small prickle of fear at the back of her neck.Why is he talking to me of death?
“Very well, I promise,” she said. “I shall not go past the woods. But what of you? Are you also free in this marriage—free to come and go as you please, and, I assume, visit whichever parts of the estate you desire?”
“I am loyal to you,” he said with such decisiveness to his voice she did not question it. “It was my decision to marry you—I was the one who pursued this and talked you into it. Therefore, I am responsible for you. I will keep you safe, and I will be loyal to you in all ways. That is the marriage vow I would have made, could I have said these things in front of the Archbishop and your parents.”
“I am glad you did not,” she said with a small laugh, and she smiled. It was her first truly genuine smile in days. “Thank you,” she added. “I have never known such generosity in a person.”
“Do not thank me,” he said, and she saw a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “I do not do this to be thanked.”
“Still, I am grateful.”
She was tempted to touch him—to take his hand or kiss his cheek—but she restrained herself.
“I shall bid you goodnight, then,” she murmured. And with a last, lingering look, she turned and went back into her room, closing the door behind her.
Vanessa did not know entirely how to feel. And as she sat down on her bed, emotions raged through her. There was a feeling of rejection, certainly. Part of her had wanted her husband to desire her the way a man does a woman. But a larger, more significant part of her was moved. Touched. Filled with gratitude.
