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Alex. His guileless, straightforward, unconventional Alex, scorner of the upper crust, had utilized every feminine wile and resorted to every flagrant flirtation of the most skilled adulteress. Flitting gaily from man to man, she had tantalized with her half-naked body and encouraged with her purring responses, until every male at the party was openly lusting after her.
For months his mind had warned him again and again that she was a woman, no more or less, and women were treacherous by nature. But his heart had refused to listen. He had steeled himself for this, frantically clung to his wall of self-protection, remained immune by holding part of himself back. And the damned thing was that it had done no good.
All his efforts had been for naught. He was in love with his wife.
A riot of feelings and emotions stormed Drake’s senses, and he closed his eyes to the excruciating pain, which far surpassed the anger. He leaned back, drained the contents of his glass in one gulp, knowing that no amount of the burning liquid could dull the hurt and sense of betrayal.
So it was true. She was like all the others, only lacking the opportunity to show her true colors. Until now. Now, amid the glitter of the ton, she was everything he had feared she was, and prayed she was not.
And he was just as vulnerable as if he were a young boy all over again.
But he wasn’t a young boy, damn it. He was a grown man. A duke, no less. And he would not allow his wife to make a spineless fool out of him.
He shot to his feet, his eyes blazing, and sent his glass crashing against the marble fireplace. She wanted a nobleman? He would give her one.
He collided with Smitty in the doorway of his room.
“Get out of my way, Smitty,” he warned.
Smitty sized up Drake’s drunken state immediately, then looked past him at the shattered glass against the wall.
“I think you should rest, your grace,” he began.
“I don’t give a damn what you think, Smitty, nor do I want any sage advice.” He moved past him.
Smitty caught his arm. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he said quietly. “Don’t go to her like this.”
Drake stared down at Smitty’s restraining hand and gave a harsh laugh. “Do not dare to speak kindly of my wife to me tonight. Why, at this moment there is probably a line of eager men outside her door.” He raised burning, pained eyes to Smitty’s. “Don’t interfere, Smitty. I mean it. Not this time.” He shook his arm free.
“Do not do anything that you will regret, your grace,” Smitty cautioned him softly.
Drake tightened the belt of his robe. “It’s too late, my friend. Far too late to avoid regrets.”
He crossed the hall to Alex’s chambers and flung open the door.
Alex started. Having just dismissed Molly, she had been sitting at her dressing table, staring dreamily off into space. Her thoughts had been tender and happy, of Drake, of the baby. And into this peaceful haze came the crash of her door as it flew open.
She stood up hesitantly as he slammed the door closed behind him. “Drake?”
Why did she have to be so damned beautiful? The moonlight filtered in through the window, weaving golden highlights in her hair and making her ivory night rail seem transparent. He felt his loins tighten, and he despised himself for the weakness of his flesh. She was treacherous and hypocritical, everything he loathed.
And he wanted her so much that he throbbed with it.
“Hello, princess.” His voice was slurred, but she heard the sarcasm immediately.
“You’re foxed.” An observation rather than an accusation.
His bitter laugh sent prickles of fear up her spine. Something was different this time, something that frightened her.
He approached her slowly, like a sleek wild animal stalking its prey.
“Yes, I am,” he agreed, reaching for the belt of his robe. “I am also your husband, till death do us part, remember?” He didn’t wait for her response. “I’ll tell you who else I am, just to reassure you that your marriage to me is an advantageous one.” He towered over her, his eyes blazing with green fire, his features taut with anger. ?
??I am Drake Robert Barrett, the Duke of Allonshire, the Marquis of Cairnham, the Earl of Laneswood, Earl of Ravleton, Viscount Manvell, and Baron Winsborough. Surely that must be enough titles to satisfy you, your grace.” He caught her trembling chin in his hand. “Enough to convince you to give to me what you’ve promised a roomful of men all night long.”
“I d-don’t know wh-what you mean.” Alex was terrified. She had never seen Drake like this.
“No?” he asked softly. “Then I’ll spell it out for you. I want my marital rights, princess. Right now. I want you to submit to me, to lie down on your beautiful little back and open your luscious thighs for me. I want to spend myself in your willing body, the body that you’ve flaunted so prettily before the world.” He paused, lowering his mouth until his breath touched her lips. “The body that belongs to me. Only me. Do you understand? You are mine … mine. And I will never let you forget it.”
