“Aurelia…” His control had slipped.
But she didn’t notice immediately. She held his stare, her chin held high, and her nostrils flared.
“I will not apologize for trying to bring life into this house.”
His gaze dropped again. Her hands were still clenched into fists, her knuckles still white.
The air between them crackled with her defiance. It tormented him, the way her chest rose and fell with each furious breath. His hands twitched at his sides, itching to grab her hands and stroke the tension from them.
The way her nails dug so hard into her palms made his throat tighten. She was hurting herself.
However, she didn’t seem to notice the pain. She was too busy glaring at him, her lips parted as though she had more to say to him.
He couldn’t stop himself.
“Stop.” His voice was rough and low, vibrating with something more than anger. “Do not do that to yourself.”
Her brows drew together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I want you to understand that?—”
“None of what you are saying matters until you stop doing that to yourself,” he bit out.
Her breath stuttered, but then she followed his gaze to her fingers and realized she was clenching her fists tightly.
“That doesn’t matter—” she tried to say.
Percival moved without thinking, his steps swift and almost desperate. Before she could process anything, his larger hands curled around hers and pried her fingers open until her nails released their cruel hold on her skin.
“I told you to stop,” he said somberly, although there was a breathless edge to his voice.
Aurelia froze, her wide eyes flicking to his face. She wasn’t exactly sure what was happening; he had acted so impulsively.
For a heartbeat, she thought he was commanding her again. Another order from the cold duke.
Her lips parted, ready to snap back in defiance. But then he spoke a word she had never expected to hear from him, in a voice that was too hoarse and broken.
“Please.”
The syllable sounded almost human. It dropped like a light feather, yet it was strong enough to break every wall she had erected around herself.
Her heart almost stopped.
Please.
From his lips, it sounded so raw and almost foreign, as though his tongue had never known the shape of it. And her anger? It fizzled out under the weight of that word.
Her fists loosened. Still, he didn’t release her, scared she would try to hurt herself again. His hands remained around hers, warm, strong, trembling faintly.
She did not pull away. She couldn’t. Not when his thumb brushed hers—an unconscious caress.
Her breath shuddered out, and he felt it. Her skin was soft and delicate. He had never touched something so soft, so delicate, without breaking it.
“If you wish to make changes…” He finally broke the silence, his voice low and deep. “… you need only tell me. That is all I ask.”
Aurelia swallowed, and the movement pulled his gaze down the elegant line of her throat. Water droplets still glistened on her skin. His blue eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as though every ounce of his discipline was fighting against his instinct.
Her lips trembled under the intensity of his gaze. Eventually, she whispered, almost breathless, “Then… breakfast. Together.”
He blinked, startled by the simplicity of her demand. However, she had been wanting that change, and that was the first thing that came to mind now that he had made clear that his permission was all she needed.