Page 52 of A Duke Makes a Deal
In and out, in and out. Clara’s bottom lip fell open and trembled as a wave of emotion rushed over her. It was the oddest feeling, to stare into his eyes while he moved within her. It felt as though he were claiming every inch of her. She had never felt so exposed and simultaneously so wanted in her entire life.
Soon, his movements became short and fast and her breath sped up to match. When he fell deep into her on a final stroke Clara tried to lift her knees, almost wishing to wrap her legs around him. Thinking that to be too wanton, she forced her body to relax as the weight of his body dropped on her, making her feel oddly comforted trapped beneath his form.
Some moments later, she heard his breathing even out. He slowly pulled himself from her and got up. She watched with curiosity as he made his way to the water basin that stood beneath a north window that overlooked the garden. When he returned to bed, he had a length of dampened towel, which he used to clean her. Not merely between her legs, but her entire body, prompting her to sit up. She winced when he reached her thighs, but his hand was gentle.
When he was done, he moved the covers down and she crawled beneath them, watching him as he turned out the lamps and blew out the candles. Soon, he rejoined her in bed, his long lean body pressed against her soft one.
Clara wasn’t sure if she should speak, and even if she should, what would she say? He hadn’t said anything since he finished, but when he laid beside her, she felt his arm unexpectedly come around her waist and pull her tightly against his chest.
“Good night,” she whispered, her eyes wide in the dark.
But Silas did not speak. He only left out a gentle snore, leaving Clara alone with her thoughts.
Chapter Thirteen
Silas was upearly and out of the house to ride before the sun was even up. Shaken from the night before, he hadn’t been able to sleep all night. The moment he heard the steady, deep breaths of Clara’s slumber, he pulled away from her and got out of bed. He had sat in a chair facing the bed and stared at her sleeping form for most of the night.
Their coupling had rattled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Silas had expected to find pleasure of course, but where he hadn’t been surprised by their physical compatibility, he had been unexpectedly by the emotional connection he’d experienced. To lay with someone who he not only desired but held in such high regard—someone whose pleasure felt so precious and special to him—well, it felt wonderful and terrifying at the same time. It was all rather confusing.
They had moved in unison during the entire episode and a strange, deep feeling had bubbled up inside of him as he moved deeply within her. Silas had believed it was simply that he was reacting to the fact that Clara now belonged to him as any wife belonged to her husband, but this was different. A possessiveness he had so often beat down while he was with Cynthia had roared up in his chest the moment she said “I do” in the chapel. But while it was similar, it wasn’t exactly the same.
With Cynthia, he always felt like he was straining to keep her, like she was always pulling against his hold, right on theverge of breaking free. But Clara wasn’t like any sort of caged bird yearning to fly away. Not in his bed, nor in his home, nor in his life. She had seemed a little uneasy at first, and he could understand that. Greystone was likely the largest home she had ever been to and to suddenly be its mistress had to be a daunting prospect. Still, at the same time she seemed relaxed in his company, a detail that he found charming. She had pushed back against his body when his arm went around her waist and the tone of her voice when she said goodnight seemed pleased, as if she were happy to be just where she was.
It unnerved him to no end.
While Silas had longed for a comfortable marriage, void of emotion and desire, he couldn’t shake a growing feeling for Clara. He tried to focus on the practical reasons why he had decided to marry her as he rode his horse across the fog covered fields that morning.
She was not a tittering miss or a lady keen on gaining a title. She was attractive, more so now than he had originally thought, though that was not necessarily a good thing—it could be a problem if he ever let himself grow infatuated with her. She had other qualities that he had never found attractive in the opposite sex and those were the reasons he needed to focus on.
But when she had said so softly goodnight, he felt a chip in his amour, like someone had cracked a hammer against a frozen pond.
Silas had been so careful to enter this union without any misconceptions or preconceived notions of love. He and Clara were to have a friendship first and foremost and he would willingly ignore all other feelings, but this creeping urge to go to her, to spend every minute he could with her, sent up a warning within him. If he wasn’t careful, he might actually fall in love with her and that was something he absolutely could not do. Hehad promised himself that he would never allow himself to be at someone’s disposal again.
As he rode well into the late morning, Silas couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being sucked in. The edges of him seemed already gripped by her.
After his ride, Silas returned to the house. He climbed the stairs in hopes to find Clara in their bedchambers, only to discover them empty. Confused, he turned to search the house when out the window he saw the top of her head as well as that of a red head woman, moving about the maze. Frowning, he decided to catch his new bride and her friend by surprising them at the middle.
Silas was down the stairs, out the back terrace and in the gardens in a matter of minutes. He moved through the old hedge that he had memorized as a boy. It was a yew hedge, put in by his grandmother during the French revival period. He was able to reach the secret garden that laid just north of the center. Pausing, he strained to hear the feminine voices of Clara and her friend. It seemed that they had reached the fountain that sat in the center of the maze, unaware that a pergola, covered in wisteria and climbing rose, was the true prize.
He had barely reached the fountain when Clara’s voice caught his ear.
“—I just don’t think a marriage should start out like that,” she said, causing him to stop in his tracks. “It’s dreadful.”
Cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach. It felt like every moment of anxiety he had ever experienced had been suddenly validated and his body tensed against the sinking feeling. What had caused her to be so against their match and so soon? Was it because of their wedding night? Surely not, and yet Silas couldn’t help but worry he might have hurt her or caused her some sort of embarrassment or discomfort.
“It may not be what I hoped for as a girl, but I don’t have many prospects,” her companion spoke. “My parents left us little and I’ve supported Jasper and Katrina as long as I have only because I was able to sell off most of our livestock.”
Silas’s thoughts were slow to process that Clara hadn’t been talking about him. A sickening wave of relief fell over him as he closed his eyes and swallowed back his anxiety.
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and spied through the yew and saw Clara, sitting on a stone bench while her redheaded friend walked around, wringing her hands together. What were they talking about?
“There has to be another way,” Clara continued. “You cannot marry that old man. He could be your grandfather. And besides, the terms of his proposal are strange. It’s not how a marriage should start out.”
“But it wouldn’t be a proper marriage. Don’t you understand?” her friend asked. “John—Lord Bairnsdale—is a gentle, old soul and he has always been kind to me and my family. I believe he is truly worried about our impending doom.”
Bairnsdale? Silas’s brow furrowed. How did he know that name? For some reason, it put him in mind of Gavin, but what was the connection? Silas tried to think. Didn’t Gavin have an uncle who held some sort of title? A baron perhaps?
“Doom? Oh dear, Holly,” Clara said sadly. “I didn’t know it was that bad. Why didn’t you tell me?”
