Page 39 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"Then you should expect the unexpected."

He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "I always do where you are concerned."

Her smile faltered for half a second, and Pierce noticed it immediately. So did she, judging by the way her eyes shifted away, but neither of them acknowledged what had passed between them. The carriage arrived, and he walked her out. Instead of the footman helping her in, he himself held her hand. Margaret placed one foot upon the step before looking back at him.

"Goodnight, Your Grace," she said.

"Goodnight, Goddess."

She shook her head. "Do stop calling me that."

"I have no intention of stopping."

"Then I shall have to find something equally irritating to call you."

Pierce smiled. "I look forward to it."

Margaret climbed into the carriage, but before the door closed, she leaned towards him and said, "I shall think of something dreadful."

"I have no doubt."

The door shut, and the carriage rolled away into the darkness. Pierce remained on the steps, watching until the lights disappeared, though his thoughts were no longer on the hour or the wedding arrangements. He should have been thinking about tomorrow's ceremony, about the legal documents, the guests, and the thousand practical matters that required his attention.

Instead, he was thinking about Margaret… in his bed.

CHAPTER 10

Here I am again. Another wedding.

Margaret walked down the aisle once again, yet nothing about the experience felt remotely like the first time. The church was quieter now, the small gathering consisting only of those who mattered most to her, and there was no Geoffrey Harrowby waiting at the altar with his smug expression and grasping certainty.

Instead, Pierce stood there, tall and commanding, his dark figure drawing her gaze despite every effort she made to look elsewhere.

The flutter in my belly is nothing more than nerves… nothing whatsoever to do with how dashing he looks.

Margaret told herself it certainly had nothing to do with anticipation.

Her father walked beside her, his arm tucked protectively beneath hers, and for several moments neither spoke. Bernard looked older than he had a week ago, though Margaret knew it was worry rather than age that had settled upon his features.

He leaned towards her and whispered, "Are you certain, my dear?"

Margaret swallowed and forced herself to smile. "I believe I am."

"That is not quite the same as being certain."

She glanced at him. "Papa, Pierce's reasons for marrying me are certainly nobler than Harrowby's. He wishes to protect his son, and he has given me freedom from a contract I never wanted."

Bernard's expression remained troubled. "That does not mean you owe him your life."

"I know." Margaret looked ahead again, her fingers tightening around the flowers she carried. "But you have a point…what if he is simply better at concealing his cruelty?"

Her father's brow furrowed.

"His wife fled him," Margaret continued in a whisper. "She left his house in the middle of the night. She must have had a reason."

Bernard sighed softly. "Perhaps. But perhaps there were matters you do not understand."

Margaret looked towards Pierce again. "That is precisely what frightens me."