Page 21 of Duke of Diamonds
“I do wish it would rain,” she said suddenly, tilting her head back to the blue sky above.
He didn’t even glance at her. “No, you don’t want that. It would spoil our promenade.”
Fiona’s brows drew together.No,youdon’t want that. Of course.
“Jumping in puddles sounds quite tempting just now,” she added, raising her voice with deliberate care.
Two passing matrons paused mid-conversation, their heads swiveling toward her with twin looks of scandalized dismay. Fiona smiled sweetly in their direction.
Aaron gave the ladies a tight smile and a shallow bow. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said smoothly, as though attempting to erase Fiona’s outburst through charm.
“Jumping in puddles?” he hissed to her under his breath, his smile never faltering. “You are not a child, Fiona.”
“Oh, of course I’m not, my lord,” she trilled, giving his arm a graceless pat and giggling for good measure.
The matrons were still watching. Fiona met their gazes with open delight. Aaron’s mouth parted—perhaps to scold her further—but she beat him to it.
“Well, since there’s no rain, we could always climb the trees,” she mused, peering toward one of the tall oaks.
He said nothing. Not a word. Good. She had his attention now.
Without another thought, she began to gather her skirts.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and taut.
“Climbing a tree,” she replied lightly, taking a step off the path. Then, as if seized by a whim, she laughed—high, bright, and too loud. A nearby pigeon flapped away in alarm. The matrons from before were still lingering, exchanging hushed commentary behind their gloved fingers.
Fiona turned toward them, beaming. “Have you ever tried it, ladies?” she called out. “I am told the view from the branches is quite restorative.”
The older matron stiffened. “Pardon me?”
“Oh, never mind,” Fiona said cheerfully, waving a hand. “It’s only that I’m quite determined to climb that particular oak. There’s something about its shape that simply demands it.” She started forward again, skirts gathered in both hands.
“Fiona,” Aaron muttered through clenched teeth. She paid him no mind.
“I daresay the bark looks rather welcoming. Perhaps we might all take a turn?” she added, glancing coyly back at the women.
They recoiled slightly, one of them clutching her reticule as though Fiona had suggested disrobing.
That was when Aaron’s patience snapped. His hand shot out, closing around her wrist with force. “What has come over you this afternoon?” he hissed, his smile now a mask stretched too tight. “Will you not comport yourself?”
His grip tightened, biting into her skin. Fiona winced, but lifted her chin.
“Oh, forgive me,” she said sweetly, her eyes narrowing. “I forgot myself for a moment. I thought this was my promenade too.”
He yanked her closer until there was scarcely a breath between them. The pleasant veneer he wore in public had cracked now, revealing something coiled beneath—something cruel.
“You will not embarrass me,” he spat.
“I daresay you’re doing a fine job of that all on your own,” she snapped back.
“You will not make a fool of me again,” he hissed just loud enough to chill her. “Do you understand? I will not be humiliated by your theatrics, not in the park, not anywhere.”
His fingers dug in deeper into her skin. It was no longer about control but punishment.
“I have tolerated your impertinence long enough,” he went on. “But let me be clear: there is a line, and you are perilously close to crossing it.”
Her heart pounded. This wasn’t anger, for it was sharper.
