Page 49 of The Duke of Fire
“Well, I want to hear about your hopes and dreams, Miss Warton. You are clearly not getting them under your brother’s thumb. I want not a truth, not a lie, but simply your dream. What do you plan to do when you leave?”
She eyed him warily. Was this another one of his clever tactics? He had not liked being the subject of her game, yet here he was, inviting something raw. Something real. But he had asked. And despite everything, she wanted him to know her. Even if it changed nothing.
“I want a home, a place to feel safe. I had always wanted to marry for love and have several children, but I cannot have it here, where everyone thinks of me as the maid’s daughter. But believe me, my mother was more honorable than many women of theton.”
“I believe you,” he said, nodding sagely.
“It is why I am willing to do… anything to achieve freedom. Once I have enough money, I can leave this place. I shall have no titles.Perhaps one day I can marry simply. A farmer. A storekeeper. It does not really matter if I achieve that or not. However, it would be nice to have a man who cares for me. This way, we could have children and the happiness that comes with them.”
“Happiness is not guaranteed,” he said, sounding irritated—though she was not sure if it was at her or at himself.
“Perhaps not. But finding someone who loves me for who I am would give me a greater chance of achieving just that,” Amelia insisted.“And if not, I can always find some work to sustain myself.”
He looked at her then. Really looked. His throat worked as he swallowed, as if he had something to say and could not shape it into words. She could not read his expression. It was not disdain. It was not pity. No, it was something… heavier.
“Then, why do you need to leave London for that? You may find a husband right here,” he said, his voice sounding muffled for some reason.
“I told you,” she said patiently. “I cannot stay in London. Everyone knows who I am. Who my mother was. Leaving gives me a clean slate. A chance at a new life.” She looked up at him—at this impossible man who had watched her so closely tonight, as if he saw something even she had not dared to admit. Her chest tightened.
“I should want that distance. Ishouldwant to leave.” Her voice trembled at the edge. “I should not want London. I should not wantyou.”
She had added the last part before she realized what she was saying. Her mouth always had a way of saying what her heart was not ready to admit.
Sebastian leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his gaze sharp and unreadable.
“Is that the lie?” he asked, his voice turning deeper and lower.
Chapter 17
“Is that the lie, Amelia?” Sebastian repeated with a low growl, his lips hot over hers. So close, but not quite. His hands gripped her waist. He pushed at the dishes, causing them to clatter. One plate crashed to the floor, but both were too far gone to care. The air between them crackled.
Amelia’s mind was floating somewhere, but she was all too aware of his body pressed against hers. He stood between her spread legs, his heat pressing through her gown’s thin fabric. Did he know this was going to happen when he gave her the blue dress?
“Sebastian… we should not do this,” she whimpered. Her body was trembling, and so was her voice. She was not like this. She had always been in control. Her body had a mind of its own now, arching toward him.
“Lie to me, then, if you can,” he challenged as his lips nipped lightly at her neck. “Tell me you do not want me. Tell me you do not wantthis.”
Amelia could not say no, even though her brain told her to stop—that the right thing to do was to push him away. Her body wanted something else. It opened up to him. It made her moan as his hands slid up her thighs. She did not even notice that her dress was bunched up near her waist until she could feel more of his heat there.
Sebastian was exactly how she imagined him to be, and more. His touch was commanding and firm, but he also knew how to be gentle. Something was building in her lower belly. Worse, something was building in her chest.
When his lips returned to hers, they were not gentle. It was a claim. His tongue touched hers, and then he sucked it deeply. A whimper escaped her throat as his hand tilted her head back by the hair. His other hand possessively held the curve of her hip, his palm hot on her skin.
“You are so beautiful, Amelia,” he groaned against her mouth. “You should see yourself like this. So perfect.”
Her only vocal response was a rumbling in her throat. It sounded like a sob. She fisted his shirt, trying to get him as close to her as she possibly could. It was dangerous. It was wrong. She was not brought up this way. She was not thinking clearly.
His fingers reached for the edge of her undergarments. She flinched. She tried to stop herself from shivering, but she could not.
“Do you want more of this?” Sebastian asked, his voice feeling like a caress on her skin. Velvety. Dangerously low.
She bit her lip and nodded, no longer able to speak. She had written about such things, about women whose bodies felt on fire, but she had never felt it herself. Her body thrummed withanticipation.
Amelia saw Sebastian smirk as he slowly slid her undergarments down, letting them fall to the floor.
“Yes. Just like that. Do not hide yourself from me, Amelia,” he said, his eyes studying her exposed body. He looked like a starving man, and somehow, that made her feel powerful.
“Spread your legs for me, darling,” he commanded.
