Page 61 of The Duke of Fire
“Do you truly want to walk away?” he asked, his voice low now. Not commanding. Almost… afraid.
She did not answer. Not with words.
He nodded once, a single decision settling over him like a weight. “Then I will go now. I will wait.”
Chapter 22
Amelia did not expect to see the Duke of Firaine at Lady Ashcombe’s ball. Balls were not his scene. Brothels and secret hunts were. However, she knew in the back of her mind that he would be there.
Sebastian gave her a few minutes to decide whether she would stay in the arrangement or not. So now, she hesitated outside the green drawing room. The place seemed like an enchantment, so far away from the sounds of the quadrille and the lively chatter in the ballroom. She could always leave, bring herself back to the normalcy and light of dancing with people who did not even think of her as their peer.
She raised her knuckles to knock, hating how her heart pounded so hard. She hated how he had this effect on her, giving her anxiety and the urge to obey. Her knuckles connected with the wood. Softly.
“Come in,” a voice said softly.
Even the way he said those two words made her insides twist. Something seemed to curl in her belly, making her whole bodytingle. She took in the dim room and the single candelabrum that barely provided illumination.
She blinked. When she opened her eyes, she widened them as much as she could as she adjusted to the low light. There, on an armchair, with shadows covering most of his body, sat Sebastian. His cravat had been loosened, and his shirt was slightly open.
Her breath caught.
It was not just the dimly lit, closed room that lent a seductive intimacy, but it was Sebastian himself. The way he sat so still was unnerving, but in a way that made her want to know more. Know why. Knowhim. One arm rested on the armrest while another held a glass.
Was he inebriated?
“You came,” he said roughly.
While she could not see his eyes, she could feel many emotions emanating from him, all because of her.
There was anger, the most obvious one. Who dared make the Duke of Firaine wait?
Then, there was relief in the way he saidyou—like a sigh.
Finally, there was need, the most frightening of them all.
“Your grandmother insisted that I come to the ball. Otherwise, Finch and Octavia would have some sort of reason to keep me home.”
He leaned forward to the light, his eyes twinkling with interest. He tilted his head to one side as he continued looking at her intently.
“She should not have to do that,” he said, a low growl coming from his throat. He set the glass down on the table to his right with a thud. “You should have come back to me willingly. Nobody else, not even my grandmother, should have to tell you to do that.”
She scoffed. Did they move to another room simply to continue the same argument?
“I told you already, I exist outside your world and command. We are in a transactional arrangement. I asked for your help so that I can have freedom. Have you forgotten that, Your Grace?”
“Answer me, Miss Warton,” he began, ignoring what she had just asked him. Frustration simmered within her. He wanted answers, but he would not answer her questions. “I want a straightforward answer. Did you miss me?”
She smirked at that. The duke did not really call her all the way to this room to ask her this question. Did he?
“Did you missme, Your Grace?”
His eyes flashed at that, and he abruptly stood from his chair. As he approached her, she saw more of his face. The burning eyes. The clenched jaw. His whole body was tense and coiled. He was prepared to pounce, and she was not in the least bit afraid. Instead, she felt excitement and rebellion.
“Do not provoke me, Miss Warton,” he warned, as he drew closer.
“Reminders had to be given, Your Grace,” she returned. She tried to keep the trembling away from her voice. She barely succeeded. “I had to remind you that you do not own me. I am here at my own accord.”
“Because I did not drag you here?” he asked, giving her a lopsided smile. She wondered which one was more frightening—his scowls or his wicked smiles. “You are playing with fire, but expect not to be burned. You cannot imagine what it did to me when you disappeared.”
