Page 49 of A Duke Reformed
"I can't do that. We have lessons together, and–"
"We'll manage somehow!" Cecilia said. "If meeting with him is making things worse for you... if it's making your heart feelheavy and your thoughts a mess, then stop. You don't owe anyone your peace of mind."
Emma smiled softly before shaking her head. "While I appreciate your concern, sister, I've come too far to give up now," she said quietly. "These emotions are not enough to derail me. I'm an adult. I'm capable of controlling my emotions."
She didn't say more than that, but deep down, she knew she only needed a few more lessons with the duke. Just a handful more sessions, and she'd have what she needed to complete Cecilia's dowry. Then, this strange, exhausting arrangement could finally be behind her.
Cecilia slipped down into the bed and returned to staring at the ceiling. "If you say so," she answered. "Just remember that you don't always have to put up with everything for our sake. It's also not fair to us as well."
Emma patted Cecilia on the head, thankful for the intimate moment they had just shared. "I know." She smiled. "Thank you, sister."
"No, Ducky. We will be dancing today."
Emma blinked, momentarily frozen at the entrance of the ballroom, not the drawing room where their lessons were usually held. It was a grander space she hadn't yet seen in hisestate. Sunlight poured in from tall arched windows, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden floors. The furniture had been cleared to the edges, and Solomon stood in the middle of the room...
His posture impeccably straight, except for the slight tilt of his head as he stared at her. He looked every bit the elegant, masculine figure that he was. Poised, without a hint of strain. It was as if the room itself had bent to his will, the very air thick with his dominance. Emma, for a moment, forgot how to breathe.
Perhaps, she should have taken Cecilia's advice and stayed away.
"Dancing, you say, Your Grace?" she asked, reluctantly stepping into the room. "Any particular reason? I was hoping we could deepen your understanding of ballroom etiquette today."
"I realized just how rusty I am when we danced at the last ball," he revealed. "I need a refresher."
Emma raised an eyebrow. "You danced just fine, Your Grace," she replied, stepping further into the room. She tried to ignore the slight flutter in her chest at the thought of the night in question.
Solomon shook his head, his gaze not leaving hers. "I know you already prepared your lesson for today, but this I insist. I was... stiff. Also, I know but a few steps. But if I'm to make any improvement, I must practice them with you."
Emma, still unsure, glanced toward the door as if contemplating an escape. "But there's no music."
"We don't need music," he answered, taking a step forward. He stretched his hand to her, his gaze unwavering. "Shall we?"
Emma's heart beat a little faster as she stared at his hand, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance of their own. Taking his hand would be a mistake. Her tactic had been to keep her distance from Solomon, to avoid getting too close. To keep herself from entertaining those...thoughts. But now he was tempting her. Again. And as she stood mere inches from him, she couldn't help but wonder if he was doing this on purpose.
After all, hadn't she refused to dance with him the last time? Was he testing her? To see if she would refuse a dance with him again?
Was this some game to him? A challenge. A way to test my resolve?
"Emma, if you still don't want–"
"No," she answered sharply, fearing that he would come to conclusions in his head. She took his hand without sparing another minute to think and following him.
As Solomon led her to the center of the room, Emma tried to concentrate, trying to piece together the information she had on dancing that could help him be better at it. But when hishand found hers, she couldn't stop the involuntary flinch from her aching wrist. It was slight, but enough for him to notice. He paused, his grip tightening ever so slightly, and his gaze sharpened on her.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and his eyes searching hers.
Emma quickly shook her head, her heart thumping a little too loudly in her chest. "It's nothing," she replied quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Really, it's nothing."
Solomon's eyes didn't leave hers. He stood very still, watching and waiting for her to say something else. As if her previous response was the wrong answer. He waited silently, until she finally caved.
With a reluctant sigh, Emma lowered her gaze, unable to meet his steady scrutiny any longer. "I... I fell earlier this week," she admitted. "I twisted my wrist. It aches a bit, but it's nothing serious."
Solomon's gaze softened, but only for a moment. He inhaled sharply then guided her to a chair nestled in the shadowy corner of the room, far from the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows.
He helped her settle onto the cushioned seat, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She couldn't quite place why it unsettled her, but her pulse quickened, nonetheless.
As he crouched before her, his eyes flickered over her wrist. "Let me see," he said lowly, attempting to ease her glove off.
Emma flinched instinctively, her pulse quickening as she recoiled slightly, pulling her hand back from his grasp.
