Four Nights With the Duke(57)

"I fail to see how that is pertinent to our marriage," she observed. "If  our parents are to be the subject of conversation, I think it's far  more relevant that when I described my father and your mother as loving  one another, you countered with an assessment of my father as a bastard  who seduced your mother, and moreover, you implied that I was more of  the same. A bad apple from a bad tree."

Another moment of silence followed. "I didn't say that."

"In so many words, you did."

"That wasn't my intent."

"You said what you thought at that moment! You said things you believed!"

"Damn it!" The words burst out of him, as if the thread of his control  had finally broken. "My whole life, I believed my father was betrayed by  my mother," Vander said, taking another step toward her. "But then I  learned he had been beating her."

Mia flinched. "I had no idea. I'm-I'm so sorry."

"He injured her so badly that she was unable to have children after I  was born." Something in Vander's voice told her that he had never said  this aloud before, and might never say it again.

"That is terrible," Mia said carefully. She had been right about all  those glass animals. She would have to send someone over to Vander's  house to box up all the fragile little mothers and their crystal  offspring.

"When Reeve arrived this morning, all I could think was that I had  married a woman who loved another man, just as my mother did."

"I-"

He took a final step and curled his hands around her upper arms. His  eyes searched hers. "I let you go. Bloody hell, I pushed you away  because I was so convinced that you loved another man. But the minute  your carriage was out of sight, it hit me. I was wrong. You don't love  him, do you, Duchess? You love me."

Mia gasped and opened her mouth to hotly refute his statement-but he  bent his head and kissed her so ferociously that heat spread like  wildfire over her skin. Only a slender instinct for self-preservation  gave her the strength to pull away.

"Unfortunate though your parents' history is, I'm afraid it doesn't  change our situation." She blurted out everything she'd been thinking  about all afternoon. "You and I are not a good match. We're too volatile  and too-" She couldn't think of the word. "I did things with you that  no lady should do, and when you lose your temper, you say things I can't  forgive."                       
       
           



       

"I can change," Vander said, his eyes fierce.

Mia shook her head. "It's not just that. I lost my dignity when I  blackmailed you into marriage, and I lost even more when . . . um . . .  well, you know what I mean. If we remain married, over time I would lose  what fragments of self-respect I have left."

Vander's rough-hewn features were set hard. "There is nothing, and I  repeat nothing, in what we did together that you should be embarrassed  about. What we did together was a gift, Duchess. And I will have no  other duchess."

"You will not tell me how to feel! Nor can you discard me and then  demand to have me back, like a piece of lost luggage. What we shared is  not good enough to sustain a marriage." She stepped to one side and  pointed to the window. "Please leave the way you came in."

Vander's eyes darkened and without answering, he pulled her back into  his arms. Like a flash of lightning, that dangerous warmth spread  through her again. When she opened her mouth to protest, he took  possession.

Mia didn't regain sanity for long minutes, coming back to herself only  to discover that she was shaking, clinging to her husband, her knees  weak. Vander was swearing under his breath as his hands roamed over her  body.

Once again she had succumbed to her basest impulses. She was shaming herself again. Ladies didn't act this way.

She pushed against his chest. "You must go," she said, her voice  cracking. "I cannot do this. You cannot do this to me. I deserve a  husband who respects me!"

"I respect you," Vander stated.

The look in his eyes made her body throb with need. But she managed to  clear her head. "You want me, which is not the same. You don't respect  me, not the way a gentleman should respect the woman he marries. The  heroes in my books would never say the things that you have said to me.  They would never even think them. But you have. A minute ago you asked  me if I'd worn this nightdress for another man, even knowing our  parents' history and the toll it took on both of us. You have repeatedly  expressed your low opinion of me, no matter what you say now."

She stepped farther away from him, as though putting physical distance  between them would somehow translate to loving him less. "The truth is  that I am nothing more than the title to you-the title, and a body to go  with it." Anger once again began to shore up her courage, putting a  layer of thick ice between them. "Are you aware that in our short  marriage, you have never once used my name? To you, I am always  ‘duchess'; at one point I wasn't sure you even remembered my name. The  final proof? Yesterday you and Edward renegotiated our marriage without  bothering to ask me about my feelings-though I stood between you in the  room."

"You misunderstood. It wasn't like that."

"Neither of you even thought to inquire whether I would prefer to remain married to you, or marry Edward."

Vander couldn't bear the look in Mia's face: her expressive features  were lifeless, all her joy and passion locked away so it didn't shine  from her eyes.

His wife was standing before him, telling him to leave, but he would not  leave. She was his. With that thought, he picked her up, ignoring her  gasp, and carried her to the bed, following her down. The moment his  body lay on hers, he felt an exquisite wave of relief.

"I'm at home when I'm with you," he muttered, kissing her nose, then her  cheekbone. Other words eluded him, so he took her mouth.

And her body. When he slipped his hands between Mia's legs, she was  already wet. After a second her eyes glazed over and she pulled him to  her, so he slid into her tight warmth, mating with her like an animal,  mad with the taste and the smell of her.

It was raw and magnificent, not slow and gentle. But after she had come  three times, and he rolled, breathless, to the side, she still wouldn't  meet his eyes. And when she sat up, his heart sank.

"This isn't right," she said.

"Duchess-"

She turned like a flash. "You see? Even now, you don't use my name."

Vander hated her hard, frozen look. He sat up and took her face between  his hands, as if he could warm her with his touch. "Mia, you are my  duchess. It is the greatest gift I have to bestow. My name, my title,  everything that's mine."

Mia closed her eyes, opened them again. "I need . . ." She trailed off  and began again. "That isn't enough. I need respect, Vander. You can't  know how much I need it. I have to respect myself, and be respected.  It's the one thing my family couldn't give me, and you do not feel it  either."                       
       
           



       

"That's not true," he said, tempering his voice, keeping calm.

She waited, but the right words didn't come to him. He could only think of crude words.

"To you, I'm not someone worth loving," she finally said, with a sigh.  "Not that I can blame you. I wrote that appalling poem; I blackmailed  you; I lose my head utterly when you touch me. I'd rather . . . In time,  I'll lose myself."

She got up without looking at him and put on a wrapper. "Go now, Vander. Please."

Vander followed and swung her about, not gently. "Everything you're saying is wrong. It's rubbish."

She gave a crack of laughter. "I suppose you do think that." She broke  free, her chin in the air. At least she didn't look empty and wooden:  now every part of her blazed with fire and determination.

"My feelings are not rubbish, Duke. Just because you do not agree does  not mean that my feelings are invalid. In fact, you just confirmed what I  already told you: at the heart, you think my opinions, my feelings, are  unimportant. And if we remained married, your opinion would always come  out in one way or another."

The pain in her voice made each word feel like a needle piercing his  skin. "I don't think that," he said, straining to explain to the fiery,  rebellious woman whom he'd hurt that-that what? He had never had any use  for eloquence; he had paid for his pleasures. But Mia deserved  eloquence.

"Go. Just leave me alone. Please." Her face and her voice were empty  again, the charm and strength that everyone from Chuffy to Jafeer had  responded to gone.