Page 35 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“Cynthia enjoyed experiencing pain. In all aspects. It didn’t matter what sort, physical or emotional. She fed off it and for a time I gave it to her. But it wasn’t something I could tolerate. I wanted to control her, to force her desires away because they hurt, but our vices never matched up quite the right way.”
After a moment of quiet, Silas wondered if he had gone too far, but then Clara spoke.
“Control,” she said softly, more to herself than to him. Silas opened his mouth to try to explain more, but then she continued. “What do you mean, she fed off the pain?”
“Just that. It was as if she could only find joy in misery.”
“And you would attempt to help her by controlling her? How did that work?”
Silas felt warm. How could he explain it to her without sending her running for the hills?
“Why are you so interested?”
“Because I’m always interested,” she countered and Silas smiled.
“Yes, I suppose you are. Very well. In our moments of intimacy, she would want me to hurt her, physically. I believed that what she truly needed was something to…to take her out of herself. To make her focus on sensation so that she could lay aside whatever turmoil lived in her heart. I would attempt to provide that in ways that didn’t hurt. Sometimes, I would restrain her. Sometimes, I would give her commands to follow, in the hopes that focusing on those would free her from the weight of other burdens.”
“What sort of commands?” Clara asked in a low whisper.
“Without scandalizing you, I’ll try to give you an example,” he said as they stopped before a large stage, where a play was being performed. Clara turned her head to see the performance. Silas lifted his hand to the back of her head and pulled on one of the dozens of blue ribbons that had been piled on and weaved into her hairstyle. Thankfully, it came out with ease, though Clara whipped around, her own hand going to the back of her head.
“What are you doing?”
“You always seem to be hiding behind all these sorts of things,” he said holding up the ribbon. “You needn’t, you know.”
“I…” she started, seemingly uncomfortable. She held out her hand. “May I have it back?”
“I thought you were curious as to how this game was played?”
“I am,” she said, her hand lowering as fraction.
“Then pay attention,” he said, his eyes intently on hers as he leaned forward, his voice dropping as his mouth hovered above her ear. “You may have this ribbon back, but I want you to tie it around your thigh, just above your knee, every day for the next seven days.” He pulled back and saw Clara’s bottom lip drop open as a deep blush stained her cheeks, but to Silas’s surprise she didn’t baulk or pull away. She seemed frozen and he realized that she wasn’t going to slap him, or storm away. A familiar pang hit him square in the heart as he exhaled. “Do you understand?”
He only meant to show her by example, but the teasing he had initially desired had melted away and another feeling replaced it.
“Y-yes,” she said softly.
Her eyes lifted to his and a surge of longing slammed into Silas’s chest. Damn it. She was too keen to please and he was shocked to find that he was just as eager to press on, but he knew he shouldn’t.
He handed her the ribbon and she took it, seemingly conflicted and he worried it had been too much. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“No,” she said quickly as they continued their walk. After a long moment she looked up at him. “Do you… Are you…”
“Yes?”
“I have several questions, but I’m not sure how to ask any of them,” she said honestly. “I’m afraid I’ll say something foolish and you’ll laugh.”
“I would never laugh at you, Clara,” he said earnestly.
Clara looked up at him and he thought he could see something akin to desire in her expression. But he was too fond of her and of their friendship. He decided to shake his head and dissuade her.
“Come,” he said, holding out his arm to her.
Clara’s hand came to the crook of his arm but neither one moved as a spark shocked both of them. It was dark out and even though there was a sense of relaxation that made Vauxhall Gardens an enjoyable place, neither seemed particularly sure of what to do next.
Thankfully, Mr. Woodvine appeared then his wife.
Thankfully indeed.
