Page 69 of Bound By the Duke
Percival made a low sound in the back of his throat, almost like a half-chuckle, half-growl.
It made her look up, and when she did, a gasp escaped her lips. He had already stepped closer, so quietly that she hadn’t seen him do it.
“What—what amuses you so, if I may ask?” she stuttered, looking up at his face.
Percival took one final step until the space between them shrank to a breath. The warmth of him was undeniable as it brushed her gloved hand. She felt it through the fabric, felt in the breath she had not known she was holding.
“You are the most decent woman I have ever met,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “And yet tonight, I fear that decency will not save me.”
Her knees wanted to buckle.
Why is he speaking in such a manner tonight?
Every word he had uttered had made her clutch the satin at her waist to steady herself because shame and something akin to want were beginning to tangle deep in her chest.
She dipped her head, praying he would not see the blush that had bloomed in her cheeks.
But he saw it. Of course, he did. Because when she risked a glance at him, she found his eyes still locked on her, piercingthrough her composure until she wished she could melt into the floor.
At that moment, she realized that her heart no longer belonged to her. It beat for him. And she despised, so very much, the fact that he might already know it.
His voice broke the silence. “Shall we?”
The question was measured, as precise as a blade. Yet Aurelia didn’t miss what lay underneath it. The faint huskiness that betrayed his crumbling control.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Of course.”
The words came out softer than she had intended.
Quietly, he extended his arm, his sleeve black as midnight. She hesitated for only a breath before resting her gloved hand on it. The moment she did, heat rushed through the silk. Through her skin, through her bones… until it throbbed low in her belly.
Without looking at her, Percival began walking, his breathing even, his stride steady. As they moved down the narrow corridor, it felt like the air itself had held its breath.
As they walked, their steps echoed softly against the floorboards. The silence that settled between them pushed unspoken words to the tip of her tongue.
Her mind wandered. Should she speak first? A word, any word, to break this suffocating hush? But what would escape her lips might be foolish, telling, something she could never take back.
Perhaps it was better to remain still and let the silence reign. Because beside her, his body was like a wall of heat, rigid with control. The faint scent of him—crisp linen and leather—titillated her senses.
Eventually, she cleared her throat, deciding to break the silence.
But he beat her to it. “You are quiet.”
The words stuck her like an arrow loosed into the hush, causing her to tense.
“Perhaps,” she returned carefully, “it’s because I do not trust myself to speak.”
That made his head turn sharply. His piercing blue eyes narrowed on her as if she had stepped into his trap. “And why is that?”
She lifted her chin defiantly, though her heart was hammering in her chest. “Because every word might be… unwise.”
The pause that followed was unbearable. His gaze slid over her face, then lingered on her lips and on the quick rise and fall of her chest. At that breathless moment, she could have sworn shesaw his jaw tighten. As if something undid him, as though he was fighting a battle no man could win.
“Then perhaps silence suits you best,” he said finally. But his voice had darkened, dropped to a dangerously low murmur.
As though he had not emphasized it enough, his gaze flicked once more to her mouth, letting her see his hunger and restraint all at once.
“Though I wonder if silence is what you truly prefer.”
