Page 13 of A Duke Reformed
Solomon studied her for a moment, those probing eyes of his searching hers. "Or perhaps," he said quietly. "They exist to protect those who are afraid to speak their minds. To give them an excuse to hide behind propriety rather than risk being honest."
Emma froze, his words hitting her like a blow. For a moment, she was too stunned to respond. "You are a stubborn man, Your Grace," she blurted without thinking.
"Help me understand," he said.
"I am trying," she answered and then rose to her feet. "But you're not listening."
"I am listening, but what I'm hearing is a lot of rules and very little reason."
Emma sighed. "That is because you are not listening to the reason. You only hear the rules. These rules exist for a reason. To create decorum."
Solomon's gaze didn't waver as he rose to his feet, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath.He placed both hands behind him and slightly tilted his head, studying her in that manner that she found unnerving.
"You should also work on the way you stare at people," Emma said in almost a whisper.
"What?" he asked, his gaze never leaving hers.
"You stare, Your Grace," Emma said, her voice steady despite the sudden flutter in her chest. She took a step back, putting more distance between them, though it did little to ease the tension thickening the air. "Too much."
Solomon's expression didn't change, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes now, something sharp and predatory that made her pulse quicken. He took a step forward, closing the gap she had just created. He moved slowly and deliberately, like a predator stalking its prey. "Ducky," he said, his voice a low rasp that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "Now there's a problem with the way I stare?"
That word again.
Emma drew in a sharp breath, her jaw tightening. The word shouldn't have irritated her. It was absurd, ridiculous... entirely beneath her. And yet, it did.
She held her breath, balling a chunk of her gown into a fist. It took every will in her body to force herself to hold her ground and keep her voice firm despite the tremor she couldn't quite suppress. "Teaching you about propriety is going to be far more difficult than I anticipated, Your Grace," she said. "You seem determined to disregard every rule."
Solomon didn't smile. His expression remained stern and his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that gave her heart palpitations. He took another step closer, his presence overwhelming her and his proximity making it difficult to think... to breathe. "What do you mean by that?"
Emma's breath hitched, her back now pressed against the edge of the writing desk. She had nowhere else to retreat, and he knew it. His nearness was disarming, his presence intoxicating in a way she couldn't quite understand. She wanted to push himaway. To place her hand on his chest and create the distance she so desperately needed.
"Your Grace," she managed at last, her voice barely above a whisper. "This is not... this is not how a gentleman behaves."
They were close now. Too close. Emma could feel his heat, the faint scent of sandalwood and something distinctly masculine that made her lightheaded. Her back was pressed against the edge of the desk and Solomon showed no signs of stepping away. Her knees threatened to buckle and she couldn't understand how one man had this much effect on a person. It was enough to infuriate her.
"Don't look away, look at me," he demanded.
Emma ignored the shiver that ran through her, and the sudden urge to blink repeatedly, as if that might somehow shield her from the intensity of his gaze. "I am looking at you, Your Grace," she whispered, her voice barely audible, even though she kept her chin lifted in defiance.
"You're not," he argued, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer. "If you cannot even look me in the eye, how do you intend to teach me?"
"I think your inability to listen to me already makes that difficult as it is," she retorted against her better judgement.
"If you wish to quit, Miss Lockhart," he said, his voice calm but with an edge that cut through the air like a blade. "I'm fine with it. But you should decide now. I don't have time to waste on your antics."
Her chest tightening at his words.Antics.The word stung, not because it was cruel, but because it felt like a challenge. A dare. He was testing her, pushing her to see how far she would go.
Just yield, Emma. You don't have to be stubborn all the time. Just agree with him. Do the job. It's not worth the fight. You need this. Your family needs this. You can't let them down. You need the money!
Her stomach churned as the reality of her situation crashed over her. Her family was depending on her. The money from Solomon was not a luxury, it was a necessity. She couldn't afford to let her pride get in the way. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.
She opened her mouth, ready to swallow her pride, ready to say the words that would keep her in his employ. But then, before she could stop herself, the word slipped out.
"Sure," she said, her voice clipped and cold, surprising even herself.
Solomon's eyebrows lifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before he masked it. "Sure?" he repeated, his tone flat.
Emma didn't wait for him to say more. She turned on her heel, her skirts swishing around her as she moved toward the door. Her heart pounded in her chest and her mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but she kept her head high as she walked out the room, even though every fiber of her being wanted to run back into the room and get the job back.
