Page 64 of A Duke Makes a Deal
He stared at her as if she spoke a different language. He couldn’t comprehend why she was so set on having feelings for a broken man, but something within him rallied against his self-destructive behavior. Silas found that he wished he could be someone worthy of her troubles.
“I’m sorry, Silas. I’ve been trying so hard to be patient, to understand things that don’t quite make sense to me—”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, his throat tight. He had no doubt that she wished to know more about the games he used to play with Cynthia.
He had sworn never to broach the topic to anyone. His relations with Cynthia had been too miserable, too embarrassing to speak of. But it was terribly hard to deny Clara anything, especially when she was so bull-headed and determined. She was ridiculous. Ridiculous and unnervingly persistent not to mention brave. To admit that she loved him, when she knew he would never, could never love her back…well, he found himself in awe of her bravery.
She deserved to at least know why he felt the way he did.
“Can we change first?” Clara asked, looking down at herself. “I’m worried we might catch a cold.”
She folded her arms across her chest as she shivered and Silas frowned with worry. Damn him for having her outside, like some sort of animal.
“Hawkins!” he bellowed behind him.
Instantly the butler appeared.
“Yes, your grace?”
“Have the bath drawn and send several trays of food up to my room,” he said. “Along with tea and a bottle of brandy.”
“Very good, your grace,” Hawkins said with a bow before disappearing.
“Come,” Silas said, holding out a hand to Clara.
The shadow of a smile passed over her face as she took his hand. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, but he felt oddly pleased that he had caused it.
A half hour later, the storm continued to rage outside, but neither Clara nor Silas seemed aware. Tucked away in the warmth of their rooms, Clara sat in a thick, burgundy colored velvet nightrobe that belonged to Silas, with a black satin quilted pattern on the lapels. She had dressed in one of her nightgowns but had still been rather cold and asked him for something that she could wrap herself up in. He helped her tie it at her waist. It dragged beneath her feet as she crawled up into their bed while Silas, dressed in nothing more than a length of towel he had wrapped around himself once he got out of the bath, brought her a cup of tea with a liberal dose of brandy added.
“Are you warm?” he asked after she took a long, slow sip.
“I will be,” she said cheerfully before her stare turned serious.This is it, he mused. She was going to ask him.
“Yes?” he asked, his tone slightly brittle.
“What happened between you two, Silas?” she asked. “What did she do to you?”
Silas chuckled, unsure what he found so amusing about her question. It all seemed rather ridiculous, he guessed as he sat on the bed, one leg bent on the edge while the other stayed on the floor. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell her or even where to begin, but then he took a deep breath and decided to be as honest as possible.
“Cynthia and I were similar in many ways. When we were first introduced, we learned that our backgrounds were nearly identical. Cut from the same cloth, you could say,” he started, tracing his finger along the end of the label of the bottle of brandy he held in his hands. “We both appreciated the arts, as well as languages, although I believe our shared interests ended there. We were both the offspring of dukes who had little care for their children, resulting in our being rich, bored, and lacking morals. That’s not to say my father was a cruel or immoral man. He was simply preoccupied as any man of his position would be.” His brow creased. “Cynthia’s father was eager to marry her off, as she’d proven too spirited for his liking. I hadn’t planned on marrying so early in my youth, but then I hadn’t met her.”
Silas’s gaze lifted to Clara to see her reaction, but her face remained impassive so he continued.
“When we did meet, it was a surprising attraction. I was infatuated with her instantly, and she appeared to feel the same, but it wasn’t an easy sort of courtship. Cynthia liked to play games,” he said, his tone soft. “I did too.”
“What sort of games?” Clara asked, her tone curious.
“Vile ones,” he continued. “Ones that hurt people and played with their emotions. She would try and make me jealous so that I would react.” Silas felt his throat tighten slightly, disliking his need to share these parts of himself with her. His eyes locked on hers. “And I would.”
“What would you do?”
He shook his head, an unsteady breath escaping as he debated internally how much he should reveal to her. As he stared at her, unwavering and understanding, he felt another crack in his heart open.
“Punish her.”
“Like you told me before. Where you would control her, restrain her.”
“That too,” Silas agreed. “But sometimes, I gave her what she really wanted—which was pain. Pain was her addiction and control was mine. It was always part of our little play. I allowed it for a time, to appease her, but she always wanted more. None of it was supposed to be real, or at least I didn’t think it was real because I was so sure she and I were the same person.” He frowned, not quite believing it anymore. “We were supposed to be two sides of the same coin.”
