Page 52 of Bound By the Duke
His hands clenched behind his back, his knuckles whitening. He could not bear to see the painting. Her eyes always dredged up a certain memory. Looking at them, he couldn’t tell whether it was love or accusation.
You should have saved me.
You should have done more.
It was your fault.
Thoughts that he had kept buried for ten years flooded back. He whirled away, fighting the urge to rip the painting down with his bare hands. Maybe that would silence those thoughts.
His composure was cracking, just enough for the servants to glimpse the torment beneath his cold mask. That was more than enough to elicit whispers.
Without another word, Percival stormed down the corridor. He knew exactly where he was going. He knew exactly where to findher.
Aurelia. The woman who dared to trespass into his shadows with her light. The woman who had dug out memories he had buried deep.
He shoved open the door to her chambers without knocking.
And there she was, fresh from her bath. Her skin was flushed from the steam, and her damp hair hung down her bare shoulders. She wore only a thin shift, the fabric clinging indecently to her body, outlining the swell of her breasts and the round curve of her hips.
She turned at the sound, startled, and her brown eyes widened as they met his.
For one wild moment, Percival forgot his fury. Desire shot through his veins, hard and fast. His cock twitched, thickening against the confines of his trousers. His eyes traced the hollow at the base of her throat, the water droplets sliding down the valley between her breasts, the shape of her thighs through the near-transparent fabric.
He gritted his teeth. He should have turned away, should have walked out before he ruined them both. Instead, he stepped inside and shut the door with a bang that sounded like a warning.
“What possessed you,” he growled, “to hang that painting where all could see?”
Aurelia blinked for a moment. Then, when realization dawned on her, she lifted her chin, regal despite her near-nakedness. Her wet hair swayed at the movement, her lips parting as though daring him to look longer.
“I thought it was my duty,” she responded calmly. “Your home is lifeless, Percival. That portrait?—”
“—was hidden for a reason,” he thundered. He stepped closer, each step deliberate, his eyes searching hers. “This ismyhouse, not yours to alter. Not yours to revive with false cheer. You will not?—”
“You hate change so much,” Aurelia cut in sharply, her chest rising with short breaths. “But tell me, what am I supposed to do? You gave me no place, no purpose. You made me a duchess, yet you forbid me to act like one.”
Her words struck him deeper than he cared to admit, but it was the fire in her eyes that undid him.
“What Lottie needs,” she continued, her voice breaking but still fierce, “is not another rule or another lesson. She needs a mother. She needs a family. She needs love. And you… you bind me so tightly that I cannot give her even that.”
“Lottie has nothing to do with what I’m asking of you,” he argued.
“She does.” She took a confident step forward. “Because you lock away the faintest memory of her mother…” Though the words made her chest ache, she was still going to boldly say the truth. “And you try to lock me away, too. Lottie needs a mother figure, and I intend to give her that, and that begins by helping her know about her mother.”
“Why do you find it so difficult to do as I say?” His voice came out raspy as he struggled with fury and something deeper.
“Why do you find it difficult to listen to me, Duke?” Aurelia fired back. She clenched her fists, her hands trembling at her sides, her whole body tense with unspoken desperation.
Percival’s eyes dropped to her fists, and he froze. For a moment, all he could see were her white knuckles. His gut churned violently as another haunting memory flashed through his mind.
Those clenched fists. He had seen them before. With another woman. In another time. Followed by sobs before blood met his hands.
No.
He shook his head before he even realized it.
Not again. Not with Aurelia. History must not repeat itself. I won’t let her hurt herself because of me.
He dragged in a harsh breath. His blood pounded in his ears, his body aching at the wild gleam in her brown eyes.
