Page 27 of A Duke's Scandalous Obsession
His feet carried him towards the one place where he was always able to find solace. Ever since he had repaired his father’s clock when he was ten years old, he realized that he possessed a keen eye for detail and a meticulous nature, making him naturally suited to the precision work of clockmaking. Over the course of the following years, he continued to find fulfillment in the delicate intricacies of the craft, reveling in the challenge of restoring and repairing timepieces to their former glory.
He loved every bit of it, from the disassembling and cleaning to reassembling it back again, each clock allowed him to immerse himself in the task at hand, providing a sense of focus and satisfaction that always managed to soothe his restless mind.
He hoped that once again, he would be able to quiet his mind and find peace in the solitude of his workshop. As for Catherine, tomorrow would be a new day, and with it, he was bound to find a new way to get close to her.
As he approached his small workshop, the soft light emanating from within caught him off guard. He knew that his servants would not enter that room, unless it was time for cleaning, which it was not. He walked slowly, as a curious mixture of surprise and intrigue stirred inside of him. With cautious steps, he pushed the door open and stepped into the room, his eyes widening in astonishment at the sight before him.
“Catherine?” he called out her name. She was the last person he expected to see there. He thought she would be in her chambers, avoiding him. But she was there, in his most private room, the one he didn’t show to anyone. Finding her there raised strange emotions inside of him.
“Oh!” Catherine stammered, nearly dropping the candelabra in her hand, her surprise giving way to a flush of embarrassment. “I-I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I got lost and ended up here…”
His initial surprise melted away, replaced by a warm smile of reassurance, tinged with some playfulness. “You were curious, admit it.”
“No,” she frowned, but the corner of her lip danced in a barely visible smile. “I told you, I got lost.”
“That may be true, but instead of going back the way you came from, you opened the first door that tickled your fancy,” he teased her. He wanted to make her talk to him, even if it was just because she found him annoying. Even that was better than being ignored.
“I did try to go back,” she replied, her luscious lips pouting. How he yearned to kiss them again, to taste them, to tug at her lower lip gently with his teeth.
“You didn’t try very hard, I can tell,” he chuckled, much to her chagrin.
She shook her head, as her cheeks flushed a fervent red under the light of the two candles she was holding. “You are insufferable. Good night.”
Before she could leave the room, he stood in the doorway. “Wait,” he said, hesitating. She looked at him, her long eyelashes fluttering at him. “I was just teasing. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She was not doe-eyed any longer, but she was still watching him like a cautious bird. Aveil of gentleness fell over her features, and she didn’t seem so apprehensive or annoyed with him. For a moment, the storm had subsided.
“I… I really was going back,” she admitted. “But then I noticed this door and something urged me to open it. I know that wasn’t very polite of me, to go roaming through the house at night.”
He smiled. “You can roam, Catherine. This is your home.”
A flicker of recognition lit up inside her eyes, as if he confirmed something deep inside of her, then he turned, gesturing around him. “Besides, there is no secret in this mansion,” he spoke somehow theatrically, amusing both of them in the process. “No mad woman in the attic. No monster in the wine cellar. No specters or ghosts that need to be avenged. It’s just a house, nothing else.”
She listened to him intently, then walked over to the clocks on the wall. “These clocks are exquisite,” she remarked, her eyes tracing the intricate designs and delicate craftsmanship of each timepiece. “I never would have thought that you, of all people, would be skilled in the art of clockmaking.”
“It doesn’t suit me?” he chuckled.
She turned around, suppressing a smile. She obviously didn’t want him to see how entertained she was, being there alone with him. But he noticed it.
“No,” she replied. “Not really.”
“I appreciate the honesty,” he laughed. “So, Catherine,” he paused for a moment, touching the workbench, then turning to her to continue, “in your humble opinion, what does suit me?”
“Horseback riding,” she shot her answer out of a cannon straight at him. This made him burst into a boisterous chuckle. She continued. “Something more… aggressive, I suppose.”
“Like bare-knuckle fighting?” he wondered. And this time, it was she who chuckled.
“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I think that suits you more than this dainty, detail-oriented hobby.”
“Ugh,” he pretended to shudder. “That’s quite the opinion you have of me.”
“Well, you didn’t really help much to make it a good one,” she reminded him, and this comment once again brought back the shadow of blackmail over the moment they seemed to be having together.
“True,” he decided to admit. After all, this was his home. And hers as well. One should never pretend in one’s own home or tell something that wasn’t true.
“You surprised me,” she whispered, turning her attention back to the clocks once again.
He smiled without replying. He surprised her… in a good way. That was more than enough for her first day with him.
