Page 44 of Bound By the Duke
Then, he took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on Lottie, who quickly looked away.
“Charlotte.” His eyes flickered to the stain on her gown. “What has happened to your dress?”
His voice was low and clipped, making it difficult for the little girl to understand whether he was angry or simply curious.
She flinched beside Aurelia, her chubby fingers curling around the hem of her skirt. “I…I was painting, Papa.”
The fear flickering in her eyes as she looked away made his gut twist. He hadn’t meant to scare her. So he tried again.
“Painting?” he questioned. “You know better. A lady’s gown is not a canvas,” he tried to remind her.
But somehow, his voice came out so sharp that it made her lips quiver.
“I tried to be careful,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Carelessness, Charlotte,” he said tightly, “won’t serve you well.”
He wanted carelessness, and he couldn’t help but rebuke his daughter when she had shown signs of it.
But when he noticed the way she shrank at his words, he took a deep breath. He should have sounded more welcoming.
Before he could make amends, Aurelia stepped forward with deliberate boldness.
“It wasn’t her fault.” She lifted her chin. “It was mine. I encouraged her to paint. If you are displeased, direct your anger toward me.”
His gaze flicked to her.
It was the wrong thing to say. Because now she had his full attention. And it was far from gentle.
Their eyes locked, and something sharp arced between them. It wasn’t anger or desire. But it was hot and reckless, crackling and thrumming.
“You are her example,” Percival rumbled, before he moved toward them. “A poor example.”
Her brows flew up, and a chuckle escaped her lips. A mirthless chuckle. Then, her eyes darkened, and she took a few steps closer. Close enough that he could hear her breathing, could see the soft swell of her bosom beneath that cursed bodice. Close enough that the maddening scent of warm vanilla enveloped him.
“Poor?” she repeated, her voice sharper now. “Do you not see that she needs more than rules and silence? She needs joy. She needs warmth. She needs to laugh without fear.”
He didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because her words hit deeper than they should have. And because he couldn’t stop staring at her lips.
They trembled in a way that made him remember how they had opened for him. Worst of all, he knew she would let him kiss her again.
“Did you not see her smile today?” she asked, her eye flicking over his face, searching for a particular emotion.
Percival knew he had. And it had stirred a certain warmth he never knew still existed within him. But he couldn’t say that.
Several thoughts flooded his mind. When his gaze dropped to her mouth again, her breath caught slightly. She looked at him as though she knew. As though shefeltit, too. That weight of wanting, that ache of not having.
But then Lottie broke the tension.
“Papa, I like painting.” Her voice was small and uncertain. “I will wash my dress, I promise. Please don’t be angry.”
Percival looked at his daughter. He felt terrible. He hadn’t meant to scare her. He had only wanted to make her strong. But the way she looked back at him made shame squeeze his heart. There was fear in her eyes. Fear ofhim.
“It’s fine, Lottie,” she whispered, eyeing his daughter briefly, before her eyes flicked back to him. “Isn’t that right, Duke?” she asked, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Percival didn’t move for a moment. “You are meant to guide her. To teach her restraint and not to indulge every whim.”
Aurelia took another deep breath. She knew he was being difficult on purpose. But instead of retreating, she stepped even closer, close enough that the hem of her skirts brushed his boots. Close enough that he could feel the heat of her body, could almost taste her breath in the air between them.
