Page 67 of A Duke Makes a Deal
“Oh.”
His hand moved over her shoulders, pushing down the robe to reveal her breasts. His eyes locked on her reflection as her mouth opened. The shock in her gaze sent a jolt of yearning through him and as his hands came up around her, he waited for her to protest.
But Clara wouldn’t stop him and the same, terrible urge to control bubbled up within him.Why is she so perfect?he wondered as he kissed down her neck. His teeth grazed over the soft skin of her shoulder and he bit down again, not as hard as he had in the garden, but enough to elicit a response. And yet she still remained unfazed. Her grey-green eyes filled with challenge and he knew she was daring him.
Lord above, he thought miserably.This woman will be the death of me.
Chapter Sixteen
Clara peered outover the fields and rolling hills of the surrounding countryside, contemplative and quiet as she, Silas and Violet rode to Lord Bairnsdale’s home in Bedfordshire. It was half a day’s journey from her childhood home, just outside the town of Kimberton and she was eager to see her parents while this far south.
She and Silas had been half expecting an invitation from the baron as Holly Smyth had decided to accept the elder man’s wedding proposal, much to Clara’s dismay. She wanted so much more for her friend—but now that the decision had been made, she would not pass judgement on it. Holly needed support, not condemnation. At least they would be able to spend the week-long hunt together, which would hopefully reassure Clara that the baron truly was as kind as Holly claimed.
Silas hadn’t been particularly interested in attending, but he’d relented when Violet had insisted and Clara had encouraged it. He’d told Clara that he’d rarely seen his sister ask passionately for anything. He didn’t know why she was so eager to attend, but he was curious enough to want to find out.
As the carriage gently tottered down the country lane, Clara felt the duke’s eyes on her. She wasn’t sure how or why she was always aware of when he was staring at her, but it had become second nature at this point. She kept her unfocused gaze out thewindow and wondered if her husband might soon relinquish his claim that he was incapable of loving her.
Clara had had her work cut out for her in that respect. Since Silas had confessed his inability to love nearly a month ago, she had been patiently working to demonstrate that her love was enough for the both of them. Silas and she were married, joined together forever and she took her vows quite seriously. More so than Cynthia.
Don’t do that, she scolded herself silently. She had tried very hard not to think of Cynthia as the enemy—it wouldn’t help anything, and it seemed unfair to judge the woman without hearing her side of the story—but it was hard to let go of the anger over how much she had hurt Silas.
She sighed quietly. Since that night, they had settled into a strange, comforting sort of dynamic. Silas hadn’t kept his visits to strictly evening appearances anymore, having realized that trying to distance himself from her was futile. Clara and Silas had since returned to being more open with one another, as they had before their marriage. She often saw him during the day and they had even started to take rather long walks through the south fields, since Clara wasn’t very proficient at riding yet. He had offered to teach her and even if she was rather nervous, she had agreed, secretly happy to be in his company for any reason.
During their walks, they had conversations about nearly everything. Clara explained in detail about her childhood—how she and her parents had lived very modestly up until her father became a success. It had been a strange transition from living frugally to extravagance, and to suddenly be thrusted into a different social circle, one that barely tolerated them because of their low birth rank. Above all, it had been lonely. It was why she was so protective of her friendship with Holly.
The two had been friends as children, long before either one of them knew about society and ranking. They had simply likedone another and had spent their youth running through fields and playing in streams together. When Holly’s mother died, some time after losing her father, she was barely sixteen and had taken on the responsibilities of the entire household, as well as her two younger siblings. Without any prospects outside of her limited circle, having never been introduced to London society, Holly had focused her attention on maintaining her family home. It was a task that had proved increasingly difficult over the years. While Holly’s life had become increasingly difficult, Clara’s life had shifted as well, in a far opposite direction. And yet despite it all, they had maintained their friendship and loyalty to one another throughout the years.
Silas had listened intently to Clara every time she spoke about her youth. She had explained to him that she had always had a very good sense of who she was as a person, but the past few years had left her confused.
Silas in turn had divulged into his own upbringing. It had been, to his way of thinking, a fairly normal childhood. His parents were stern, but not cruel. Affection was rarely physical, even between his parents. His mother was more diplomatic than kind, often keeping a distance between herself and her children, maintaining the formality with which she had been raised. His father had been elderly when he was born, an important man with far too little time on his hands who had died at the age of seventy-five, just as Silas turned seventeen.
He had been close with the Trembley family having met Derek at Eton as boys. He had regularly visited Derek and had even come to appreciate Lord Trembley as a sort of surrogate father. Clara had felt sorry for the young man he had been, but Silas assured her that he had come through adolescence with only the usual bumps and scratches. And yet, he’d been lonely too. Not to the same extent perhaps…but lonely enough to throwhimself into his relationship with Cynthia—to relish, at first, the way their lovemaking had been so intense, so all-consuming.
His lovemaking with Clara had certainly felt more intense since that day in the rain, but the most Silas seemed capable of was pinning her wrists above her head and even then, he was always exceedingly careful. When she tried to ask him about it, he only ever told her that he didn’t wish to sully her mind with such depravities, but every once in a while, it seemed he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes his fingers would dig into her hips, holding her exactly where he wanted her, or he would tell her to change positions, quickly, or else. Of course, there was never any repercussion if she was too slow or didn’t obey. But it always made her pulse jump and she found herself curious what he might do if only he allowed himself. She was eager to learn more, even if Silas refused to teach her.
Besides their standstill, they found a content and peaceful sense in each other’s company. Every day they grew closer, and every night, well, every night Clara could almost swear that he did love her, even if he refused to say it.
She let herself float back to the previous night. She and Silas had made love slowly, purposefully. Clara had been sure that she would become tired with the constant lovemaking, but it proved to be her favorite activity of the day and she often had to distract herself to focus on other tasks.
However, last night had been different. Silas had always made sure that she reached the pinnacle of pleasure before him, this time he had seemed especially intent. He’d penetrated her slow and fully, with his eyes on hers. She had felt exposed for some reason, more vulnerable and more naked than she ever had been before.
Neither spoke and when they reached orgasm—together no less—Clara had to turn away to hide the tears that unexpectedlystung her eyes. Even Silas, who was usually rather flirtatious afterwards, was quiet and contemplative.
When they woke that morning, all seemed to be in order again and they moved and spoke without distraction. But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
“Nervous?” he asked as the carriage moved across a particularly bumpy section of road.
“No,” she lied.
In truth, she was rather worried. This would be their first official coming out as husband and wife and she felt anxious. Violet’s earnest request had distracted Clara from her fears however and when she inquired why her sister-in-law was so adamant on going, Clara had been sworn to secrecy before Violet had revealed the reason.
In the month since their run in the rain, Violet had gradually opened up to Clara. It was during that time that she had admitted to Clara that she had been madly in love with a man named David Lutz since last year. From what Violet had told Clara, the baron was a devoted patron of the arts, in particular writing, and had been sponsoring the young writer for some time.
Violet had met Mr. Lutz the previous summer when he was visiting a family friend in Bedfordshire. Mr. Lutz had asked to write her and they had been in correspondence ever since. According to Violet, he was terribly romantic, but was petrified of Silas. Violet knew Silas would never approve of a courtship since David was a novelist. He’d had some success in a serial series in theTimes, but in all honesty, he was the penniless fifth son of a barrister with no option but to make his own way in the world. Nothing about him fit with what Silas expected from anyone seeking his sister’s hand. But Violet was determined to have him and she hoped Clara would help her convince Silas.
“Clara will be splendid, I’m sure of it,” Violet said with conviction, smiling at her. “Is this truly the first time you’ve been invited to a country house?”
Clara felt her cheeks flush.
