* * *
Even at breakfast, when Dace saw her next, she paused only for coffee, drinking half a cup, then she bustled away to go shopping with Gladys. He insisted on a kiss before she left. Her eyes never met his. All emotion frozen by her refusal to feel.
Dace returned to watch Angel Anston sleep on, breathing normally. Free from the pain that had made his life unbearable for so many months. He had an excellent chance of recovering, if his wound did not fester.
Dace sat beside Angel’s pillow and brooded. What marriage was this? A night of passion—but not an ounce of love from his wife. He should not have taken her, not when he had promised not to.
Lizzie was right, he was a Felmont. Her body responded to him, while her mind still loathed him. Loathed his worship of her body. Loathed even the pleasure he made her feel.
He forced pleasure on her. She feared his lust, feared where it led. Feared that the pleasures of the flesh would lead to an early grave. How could he battle those demons?
Lizzie Tempest Ruins A Viscount (Felmont Brides Series Book 1) Page 33
