Page 92 of Bound to the Heartless Duke
She quickly shook off the thought, before slowly shedding her outer garments. The cold draft of air blowing about her warned her of her foolishness yet she was undettered.
She stepped into the current, moving deeper until the coldness at the bottom licked at her thighs and soaked her through.
“This is so good,” she whispered to herself, tilting her face up to the sun and letting out a long breath.
For a while, all she did was swim, letting her limbs move through the water as her thick hair fanned out behind her.
She was so absorbed in the tickle of the water on her skin that she didn’t register the subtle shift in the air initially.
Her legs slowed in the water. She felt a prickle at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her.
To confirm her guess, she turned her head, and sure enough, there he stood.
Magnus.
He stood on the riverbank, his arms folded and his figure shadowed beneath a tree. As usual, he was tall, sharp, infuriatingly composed. But his gaze? His gaze was trained on her, like she were the only interesting thing in the vicinity.
Even when she caught him, he didn’t stop watching her, and he showed no intention of hiding it.
And she knew then that she was winning.
However, she didn’t smile. Not yet. Rather, she slowly swam to the edge, water dripping down her neck and shoulders. When she reached the riverbank, she emerged from the water gingerly, revealing her figure inch by inch. Her garments were soaked through and transparent, clinging to her breasts, thighs, and belly.
Her eyes flicked to him. He was still watching her, and the look on his face… It was riveted. Entranced. Hungry.
“Enjoying the sun, Your Grace?” she asked breathlessly, lifting her arms to wring the water from her hair.
Magnus didn’t answer immediately, because they both knew what she was doing.Andshe wanted him to know.
When he still didn’t respond, she looked at him with a slightly arched eyebrow.
Finally, his voice came, rough and deep. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Duchess.”
She laughed inwardly before stepping toward him, water trickling down her legs, her bare feet brushing the grass. “Isn’t it more thrilling when the stakes are high?”
Still no movement. Still that unreadable expression. But something in his stance betrayed the tension, the heat.
She leaned closer to him, so close that her lips nearly brushed his ear.
“I have something to show you,” she whispered.
His gaze flickered to her face immediately. But she didn’t wait for his answer; she didn’t need to. She bent to pick up her garments, dressing ever so slowly and walked back to the manor, her hips swaying gently with every movement.
She didn’t look back.
She didn’t have to.
She knew she had his eyes on her all the while she moved.
Back in her room, Lily paced like a woman possessed.
Moments ago, she’d been all confidence and curves, dripping water and innuendo. Now, standing in her chamber, dressed in her silk robe with nothing beneath, she was filled with nerves.
What if he didn’t come? What if he hadn’t cared?
What if he stayed true to that impossible vow of his? What if he had watched her walk away and still managed to bury all of that fire beneath his wretched self-control?
That could be possible. He was the Duke of Blackmore, after all.
