Page 112 of The Girl Who Fell Through Time
The halls of Ebonrose are eerily quiet as Selene steps through them, the last echoes of music and laughter now long faded. The grand chandelier has been dimmed, the candles along the corridors burning low. Outside, the wind shifts through the trees, rustling leaves against the glass.
The ball has gone off without a hitch—almost too well. No dramatic outbursts, no suspicious missteps. The Duke behaved himself, smiling his polished smile, drinking his wine, being almost suspiciously polite. He even made an effort to apologise to her for their dance at the Fairmont’s ball. But Selene knows better. The Duke does nothing without purpose.
Marta helps her get ready for bed, but Selene can’t sleep. Not whileheis under their roof.
And she doesn’t know who—or what—made Dorian disappear in her past.
She tiptoes to Dorian’s door and knocks lightly. He doesn’t answer, but she remembers the addendum he made to their marriage contract. She’s allowed to enter whenever she likes.
She slips inside. Dorian is in bed, turned on his side, half asleep.
She comes around to his side. “Dorian?”
“Selene?” His voice is low, rough from exhaustion. “What’s wrong?”
He moves to the side table to grab his glasses, but Selene puts her hand across his. She exhales, suddenly feeling foolish. She had no clear reason to be here. No excuse. Only the gnawing sense of unease lodged in her ribs.
“I—” She swallows. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Dorian studies her for a long moment. “The Duke?”
She nods. “I don’t trust him.”
“I would bedeeplyconcerned if you did.”
A huff of laughter escapes her, unbidden. He watches her with soft eyes. Heavens, how she’s come to adore these eyes of his, the warmth of them, the chips of green and amber and brown.
“I don’t like him in our home,” she admits. “I don’t like knowing he’s sleeping just down the hall.”
Dorian exhales, raking a hand through his hair. “He won’t try anything under our roof, not when half of the nobility is here to witness it.”
“And after they leave?”
“You’re worried about something specific.”
Selene hesitates. She can’t tell him about the paper, the prediction of his disappearance.
“Just a feeling,” she murmurs.
“Do you plan to watch me all night?” he asks.
She swallows. The room suddenly feels smaller. Warmer. Her pulse quickens. “Would that be all right?”
Dorian blinks at her. Once more, he reaches for his glasses.
“You don’t need those right now!” Selene hisses.
“I like seeing you,” Dorian insists. “I like knowing you’re here.”
Selene wants to kiss him at that, but if she does, she knows she won’t want to stop, and she doesn’t want another awkward conversation about children and sex. She just wants to stay here, beside him, to know he’s safe.
“I’m here,” she tells him. “And, if you’re all right with it, I’d really like to come into bed with you.”
Dorian smiles. His hand comes up to her face. “My brave protectress,” he whispers. “You’re much prettier than Soren.”
“Is that a yes, then?”
In response, he opens up the covers and moves over. Selene climbs in, draping an arm around his waist, savouring his warmth, his scent. Nothing bad can happen here.
