Page 48 of A Trap by the Rakish Duke
“Oh…” Aurelia cried out as her legs shook, gripping him fiercely to steady herself, or collapse with overwhelming pleasure.
Her eyes fluttered shut, her body arching against him as pure bliss coursed through her body.
Just as the world around her began to blur, the sound of approaching footsteps jolted them both back to reality.
Philip froze, his hand stilling under her skirt, his breath coming in ragged pants. He had done it this time.
He pulled back abruptly, his eyes darting toward the noise. In an instant his expression hardened, and the moment between them was shattered.
“We should return,” he muttered, stepping away from her as if nothing had happened.
Aurelia stood there, her heart racing, her body trembling from the aftershocks of their delicious encounter. She could hardly catch her breath, let alone form coherent words.
And yet, as she smoothed down her dress and wiped the remnants of their kiss from her lips, Philip was already walkingaway, his back stiff, his usual mask of indifference firmly back in place.
The next two evenings, as they sat across from each other at the dining table, the memory of that night lingered between them.
Aurelia had hoped they would talk about what had transpired in the alcove, but Philip had buried himself in his work, leaving no time to meet with her.
She couldn’t even catch him on his way out for his morning ride. As they sat together in the candlelit dining room the distance between them felt wider than ever.
“I will be heading out for work tomorrow,” Philip announced abruptly, cutting through the tense silence like he did the steak on his plate. He didn’t look up from his plate as he spoke, his voice cold and matter of fact. “I will return quite late.”
Aurelia lifted her head, watching him carefully. “Very well,” she replied evenly, refusing to let the hurt show on her face. “Safe travels, then.”
She had wanted, no,needed,to talk about what had happened. To ask him why, after what they had shared, he was pretending it hadn’t meant anything. It was clear to her that he had no intention of addressing it. If he wanted the memory to die she refused to fight him on it.
The rest of the meal passed in strained silence. When Philip finally retired to his study, Aurelia remained at the table staring blankly at the empty plates.
Her body still remembered his touch, the way he had ignited a passion that she didn’t know existed within her. That fire now felt distant and unreachable, buried beneath layers of cold civility.
The following afternoon, after Philip had departed for his business, Aurelia sent for her new friends, Catherine and Beatrice.
They had kept in touch for the past two days through letters, and today she was eager for their company; anything to distract herself from the confusion that Philip had left in his wake.
“I did not expect you would invite us so soon,” Catherine said with a smile.
“Neither did I,” Aurelia replied, plastering a smile on her face. “I suppose I needed the company today more than ever.”
“Oh, my dear. What ails you?” Beatrice asked.
Aurelia wished her new friends wouldn’t inquire about her state of mind. She didn’t want to taint their gathering with the mention of Philip and his behavior toward her.
The three women had gathered in the drawing room, sipping tea while they chatted.
“Nothing in particular. I just find it rather pleasing to have friends. Being an only child, I have not had the opportunity to make many friends. I was raised only by my protective father, so I was always sheltered,” Aurelia told them instead.
Catherine and Beatrice extended their hands toward her as if offering comfort.
For a moment, Aurelia allowed herself to relax, to forget the tension between her and Philip. In this space, surrounded by these women who seemed to genuinely care for her, she could almost believe that everything would be all right.
But even as they shared stories and laughter, some part of her couldn’t help but wonder when and if Philip would ever stop running from the magnetism between them.
The air in London was heavy as Philip rode toward Godwin House, the very estate that had been the source of his family’s turmoil.
Lord Keldbrooke had returned from his trip to Wales; the wild goose chase that Philip had sent him on in order to keep him and Aurelia apart, so Philip went to see him.
As soon as he arrived he dismounted his horse and strode through the grand entrance, followed by his solicitor, Mr. Whitmore, who carried a small stack of papers, the very documents that would seal Philip’s claim on the land promised to Gabriel. The hall was dim, the shadows clinging to the walls, a grim reflection of Lord Keldbrooke’s dwindling spirit.
