Page 70 of Bound By the Duke
The words struck low, hot, and devastating. He had seen the way she kept quiet in front of her family, how she had allowed silence to reign as they made decisions for her. She had always chosen silence to please people.
And now, here he was, wondering if that was what she truly preferred.
The implication of his remark almost made her miss her step, the world tilting as she nearly lost her balance.
Without thinking, she threw out her hand and grabbed his arm. Her fingers curled tightly into his sleeve, not wanting to fall. The heat of him seeped through layers of fabric when he reached for her and grabbed her waist, squeezing it possessively.
Their eyes met, and they both stiffened at the heated touch. Percival’s head was bent slightly, as though against his will, staring deep into her brown eyes.
Say something, a voice at the back of her head screamed at her.Anything.
But no words came out.
“You should be more careful, Duchess,” Percival spoke quietly, before letting go. He straightened his back and resumed his steps.
The silence returned, alive and thrumming. But Aurelia sensed the faint tremor in his breath and saw his hand curl around his cane.
“You mistake me, Duke,” she spoke, not wanting to let his words hang in the cold air. “I am very fond of speaking.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “That much I have noticed,” he said.
They stepped out fully into the night. Cool air rushed at them, and the city hummed faintly in the distance with the clatter of carriage wheels, laughter, and the glow of gas lamps.
Yet, Aurelia felt none of it. She felt onlyhim.
“The night is beautiful—” She broke off as a gust of wind swept past, tugging a curl loose from her pins. It fell against her cheek, soft and rebellious.
She lifted her hand to tuck back the strand, but his hand was faster.
It was instinct, she knew. Nonetheless, she could not help but freeze when his fingers brushed her temple. She knew it was probably rehearsed courtesy, but there was something raw and honest about it.
It made her look up.
“You needn’t have done that,” she whispered, her heart pounding.
Percival paused and searched her face, then looked away. “And yet I did.”
Still rooted to the spot, her brow creased slightly. There was something about his tone that felt… blunt. Too random. Too… confusing.
“So you regret it?” she forced out.
His jaw tightened. “It was nothing,” he answered sharply.
Her lashes fluttered. “Nothing?”
Something had changed. He was acting that way again, making her feel they were taking a step forward as a married couple, only for him to take ten steps back.
Before her thoughts spiraled, he turned his gaze to her. “A curl of hair, Duchess.” His voice was calm, though his eyes were not. “Do not make a sermon out of it.”
The words cut deeper than he had intended, but it was too late to take them back. It was a blow, so strong that she had to lower her gaze, biting back the words clawing at her throat.
Unable to bear the sight, Percival turned and walked away quickly. But inside—God,inside,he burned.
Nothing. He had named it nothing.
Butnothingdid not make his heart pound like a drum. Nothing did not make him imagine dragging her back inside and pressing her against the wall, devouring her until she was breathless. Nothing did not make his hands itch with the memory of her warmth. Nothing did not make his groin pulse with the memory of her moans.
A fool, he was. A weak, shameful fool.
