Disciplining the Duchess
“This created a rather uncomfortable situation, since his mother the dowager sat at his other side. He and Harmony had been wed a week now, and still the briefest glance at his wife awakened the savage in him. The smallest movement or casual touch made him want to rip off her clothes and press her back on the table and rut on her wildly. His mother would not have approved.
Court had intentionally limited contact with Harmony in the weeks before their wedding for this reason—she stole his control. Not maliciously, of course. She drew it away from him with glances and stares, with smiles and the charming, exuberant things she said. Their wedding night had nearly killed him. The blood on the sheets might have come from his own uncivilized heart beating so hard for her in his chest. He had sensed, of course, that his Goddess of Chaos would offer him more pleasure than the typical English miss, and she had. More passion, more questions, more uninhibited participation than he could have hoped.
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