Page 42 of Duchess Needed
Edward regarded her briefly and hummed. “Perhaps. But I couldn’t but help but notice how worried you were about the perception of others. And maybe, I wanted to show you off a little. I cannot help it, given how lovely you look tonight.”
Phoebe balked at him in surprise, wondering how he could just…say that so freely.
“It… it sounds as though you saw an opportunity to gloat and you seized it.” She accused, trying not to show how shy she felt in that moment.
Edward narrowed his eyes at her. “You spent a brief time with the duke and duchess of Ravencroft and you have already picked up their slandering ways.”
“It is hardly slander if it is true, darling husband,” Phoebe blurted in a streak of bravery.
“The only thing that is true is the fact that your beauty is incomparable to any other in this room. And if my desire to ensure that everyone knows — causing them to bite their tongues in grief because they cannot have you — means I am gloating, then I am fine with that. It changes nothing — not a single thing about what is in front of me,” he mumbled, pulling her close so suddenly, she wound up flush against his chest.
He had never been this bold before. She was not foolish to assume he did not have desires like other men, he has always been so calm and collected about their dealings, she assumed he did not feel attracted to her. But tonight, he has kept his hands on her, and now he was speaking in this odd manner that caused heat to pool in her stomach.
The conflict emerging within her must have been evident on her face because he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he whispered, “A Penny for your thoughts, duchess?”
“I don’t … I don’t understand why you are acting this way,” she confessed quietly.
He leaned back to smirk at her, letting his gaze lower onto her body, his eyes lingering in her bosom before it made its way back up to her face.
“It is this dress. It looks quite stunning on you.”
Then he lowered his lips to her ear again and whispered,
“All evening, I’ve battled with the urge to rid you of it. It is all I have been able to think about.”
The music came to a stop and the other guests bowed and curtsied to their partners but Phoebe stood still, staring at her husband as her cheeks filled with heat. He returned her stare silently for a moment, then, he took her hand and began to lead her off the dance floor.
“E-Edward? What are —”
“Come, wife,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her to keep her pressed to his sided as he walked them in the direction of a door that led out of the ballroom. “Let us go and bring my thoughts to reality.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"E-Edward, are we really —"
Phoebe nearly tripped as she followed her husband closely, nervous as she thought about thought about what his intentions were, shivering as she recalled the way he had whispered in her ear.
The forward nature of his words, how bluntly he had spoken to her both unnerved and excited her greatly. She didn’t not understand why there was a strange heat welling up within her, nor did she know how to quell it, but still, she followed him closely, telling herself it was likely not what she assumed it to be.
Surely he isn't really going to do anything untoward here. Not with all these people present in a house that wasn't theirs —
"Ah, perfect," Edward exclaimed as he opened a door that led to what appeared to be drawing room and tugged her into it.
Phoebe had hardly gathered her bearings when she heard the lock of the door click and her back was pressed against a wall, the surprise knocking the air out of her lungs.
“Edward,” she breathed, staring up at him as she tried to ignore the way her knees grew weak under his dark gaze.
He had easily complimented her, even as her scar itched beneath the attention of onlookers who still couldn’t fathom how they had ended up together, but she was also enthralled by how handsome he was. His features were so sharp, softened by how mischievous his eyes were, and his charm had made her feel as though her insides were being tossed around the air.
“I still cannot fathom how fortunate I was — to have been able to have you all to myself. To have been the first to taste you, touch you… I do not jest or speak lightly when I tell you how utterly gorgeous you are,” he muttered, gently caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers, just below her scar.
His touch trailed lower and lower, down to the curve of her jaw, the slope of her neck, until his fingertips grazed along the neckline of the dress, barely touching her breasts. Phoebe discovered shockingly that she wanted him to touch her more, wanted him to put an end to this game and simply take what he desired.
She yearned for him to do so.
It must have been written on her face, because Edward chuckled darkly, his thumb rising up to press against her lips.
“I thought you would be more reluctant to engage in this sort of thing,” he claimed with a smirk as his hands settled on her hips and drew her flush against him.
