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He was determined to protect what was his, no matter the cost.

CHAPTER 19

Juliet sat by her bedroom window and stared at the serene night sky. Sleep had evaded her, no matter how much she tried to quiet her mind. The light from a full moon streamed in and bathed her room in a comforting, ethereal glow.

The events of the previous day played over and over in her thoughts. She couldn’t stop seeing Hector’s heated gaze or forget the firm press of his hands and the way he had taken over her body. It was as chilling as it had been exhilarating.

She had never imagined the depth of the passion that lay inside of him. Hector had always been composed, and yet, their passionate interlude had revealed another layer of his complex personality.

Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the moment his hand had met her skin, the sharp sting that had followed, and the peculiar sensation it had stirred within her.

It wasn’t pain that had caught her breath but something that made her pulse quicken and her body respond in ways she hadn’t expected.

In the convent, the nuns had always spoken of innocence as a virtue to be guarded fiercely. But even within those same walls there had been whispers and hushed interactions that she had overheard late at night.

She rubbed at her face with her hands, her heart beating a little faster. The room was still and silent, and the world was asleep, but within her there was a restlessness, a yearning that she hadn’t recognized before.

As she relived just how close she had been to her glorious release, and how breathless he had left her when he withdrew his hand from between her legs, she squirmed with unfulfilled need and want.

Even when other oblates, including Mary, had spoken of being loved someday, Juliet only shrugged. She’d never entertained such thoughts and assumed she would never be interested in such foreign matters.

It was different then, and it is different now. I am different now.

Her fingers traced the curve of her neck down to her collarbone where she swore she could still feel the heated trail of Hector’s lips.

What has he awakened in me?

She had always been dutiful and obedient at the convent. As his Duchess, she lacked in many ways. Adding disobedience to the list was asking for trouble, but obedient was the last thing she ever wanted to become.

Juliet’s hand fell to her side as she recalled hisdisciplinaryactions. She was a duchess now, bound by duty and decorum, but she was also a woman with desires that she had only begun to comprehend.

If disobedience gets me what I desire, then…

A soft knock at her door startled her and yanked her out of her contemplations. Juliet turned towards the sound, her heart suddenly in her throat.

Who could it be at this hour?

“Hector?” She opened the door expectantly.

It was not her husband at the door. It was Leila, who looked a little sheepish.

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” Leila began, keeping her voice low. “I did not mean to disturb you, but I thought I should enquire of your well-being. You did not eat much during dinner, and I feared you might be falling ill.”

Juliet managed a small smile. “No, Leila, it’s quite all right. I…I was simply not hungry, but I do not feel ill.”

“Shall I fetch you something to help you sleep, Your Grace?” Leila asked.

Juliet shook her head. “No, thank you. I do not believe I’ll need it tonight.” She took a deep breath, trying to collect herself. “You may retire, Leila. I will manage.”

Leila curtsied before leaving, her footsteps barely audible as she walked down the hall.

Juliet sighed as she closed the bedroom door, and her thoughts drifted back to Hector. Although she wasn’t sure what it meant or what would come of it, she knew that Hector had awoken something within her, and there was no going back.

“What are you doing?”

Juliet raised her head, not expecting to see Hector standing before her, even though she had heard his voice.

She had retreated to a hill at the rear of the house that offered a tree with the perfect amount of shade on such a sunny day. She had been determined to distract herself from the fact that she found herself missing her husband or at least missing his touch.