Page 71 of Bound By the Duke
Keep it together, Percival.
What had happened between them nights ago—her cries at his touch, her hips bucking against his fingers—was not pleasure.No, it was discipline. He had meant to tame her, to correct her wrong ideas. To assert control.
That was what he told himself. Theliehe wanted to believe so badly.
But his body betrayed him, hard and aching even now at the memory of her lips, desperate to hear her gasp his name again.
He clenched his fists and swallowed a groan. But before he could disappear, her voice rang out from behind.
“If it was not nothing, then why—” She took a deep breath. “Why do you look as though it were everything?”
He stopped. He did not turn. He could not. Then, he spoke slowly, almost painfully. “Because you are mistaken. Entirely.”
Without waiting for her response, he resumed walking, quicker this time, as if the distance might shield him from the truth he could not face.
Aurelia followed behind, her steps deliberately slow, uninterested in keeping up with his pace. Her hands pressed against her hammering heart.
His denial had been sharp and cold. But she had seen his eyes.
And those blue eyes had confessedeverything.
CHAPTER 22
The ballroom was a world of its own, glittering and unreal.
Crystal chandeliers glimmered like frozen constellations, shining over a sea of jewels and silks. The music of violins filled the vast space, and skirts brushed the polished floors.
Aurelia had never seen such a gathering in her life. Dukes and duchesses, foreign princes, titled ladies with hair adorned with diamonds, all of them gathered beneath one roof, moving as though this glittering splendor were their birthright.
And somehow, by virtue of her new title, she was one of them.
Her hand was resting lightly on Percival’s arm as they stepped forward together. He moved through the glamor with the authority of a man who had long commanded such rooms—tall, severe, untouchable.
His presence drew eyes, and she felt them swivel toward her as well, the curiosity in them mingling with admiration.
Her stomach twisted with nerves, but beneath them was a headiness, as if she were standing too close to a fire.
Aurelia was his wife. His duchess. And though the privilege of being here still felt too heavy on her shoulders, she was still excited about it all.
She glanced sideways at him to find he had paused to speak to two gentlemen, both gray-haired but spry.
“Whitmore,” one of them greeted with a genial smile. “I hear your ships are multiplying faster than the docks can keep them.”
“Ships are nothing without men who know how to keep them afloat, Bellflower,” Percival returned, his tone dry but filled with authority.
The second man chuckled. “And men are nothing without coins in their purses. You have managed both, it seems.”
Percival inclined his head slightly. “Coin encourages loyalty, but it is discipline that retains it. You of all people know that, Yornmouth.”
Aurelia felt the weight of his words. Neither man pressed further, but their silence and smiles were those of men confronted with someone not easily bested.
Then came the chuckle, the raised glass, and the bold observation. “Your Grace, your ventures are impressive. But I daresay, they are rivaled only by your wife’s beauty tonight.”
The statement caught her off guard, her brows rising slowly. Unsure of what to do, her fingers tightened ever so slightly on Percival’s sleeve. Her gaze flicked to him.
Would he dismiss the compliment? Would he make her invisible?
However, he looked back at her.
