Page 43 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“My mother insisted that I be taught how to play. She said it was a way of expressing emotions when words were not enough.” Her face softened, and for a moment, she did not care if her husband saw her vulnerability. “She was right.”
Silence fell between them. This time, Alexandra did not mind. For some reason, Oliver’s presence did not rattle her. Instead, it comforted her.
So, she let the silence stretch on and fill the void left by the music.
“My mother wanted me to learn how to play, as well. Not for artistic reasons as your mother did, but because she found it rather fashionable,” Oliver suddenly said. “However, my father believed that music was a pastime for the weak.” He smiled wryly. “He only encouraged practical pursuits—even violent ones. Everything was better than having his son sit and play music.”
The two fell silent again, watching each other from time to time. Assessing. Finding clues in each other’s movements.
Alexandra realized that she had missed his presence. She had thought that he would stay by her side and try to make sense of the kiss.
But, no, it was not like that at all.
She had to admit that she was disappointed when he threw himself into managing his estate and his hobbies. She should have been relieved, she reminded herself, but she was not. Instead, she had listened for the sounds of his footfalls at night. She could have sworn they stopped near her door at midnight, but she could have been imagining things.
“You know, Duchess,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “I initially thought you were avoiding me. Now, I believe you are hiding something.”
Alexandra turned slowly, forcing a smile that she hoped would mask her inner turmoil. “Hiding? Whatever would I have to hide from you, Your Grace? You know the darkness in me. You know the worst of me—my father’s debts…”
She enunciated each word carefully, trying not to waver, even as she grew hot whenever she remembered where his lips and tongue had been. She licked her lips—almost unconsciously.
“I do not know yet, but I intend to find out,” he declared, and the threat felt delicious as he stared at her lips.
Alexandra wondered if she could do to him what he did to her.
No, she shouldn’t think about it.
“Perhaps it is best to leave some things alone, Your Grace,” she said primly, although other words wanted to escape her lips.
This time, a hint of vulnerability slipped through even though she tried to maintain her composure. He made it worse by stepping closer, so close that she could feel his warmth and smell the subtle hint of sandalwood on his skin.
“I have the rest of my life to solve the mystery that you are, wife.”
The finality of his words startled Alexandra. She could hear the truth in them. He would not stop until he found out what she was hiding. Which meant that she was running out of time.
Without a warning, he reached out and cupped her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the tender skin beneath her eye. “Dance with me,” he demanded, his voice gentle yet commanding.
“How? Here?” she asked, wondering how it could be possible. “Nobody will be playing music for us.”
Alexandra reasoned that to refuse would be to draw even more suspicion. But was it all that it was? She was committing to a dangerous game.
“Yes. I know you have music in your head,” he said, almost purring.
Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his, feeling the callouses on his palm that spoke of hours of boxing.
His answer rattled her. Did he not know anything at all, or was he playing a game of cat and mouse?
His grip on her hand tightened slightly, pulling her closer until their bodies brushed against each other with every step. Alexandra tried to focus on the rhythm he had started—a silent one punctuated by the thudding of her heart—but she couldn’t.
“Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “What is it that you fear so much? Do you think about what happened in the opera house?”
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “It is… complicated.”
“And the kiss?” he asked, his voice dropping suggestively, making it clear that he wasn’t talking about just the kiss.
“I never thought about it,” she lied.
For some reason, he looked as if he believed her. Oliver suddenly untangled himself from her and left her standing there, wondering what happened.
