Page 28 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

Cecilia slipped down into the bed and returned to staring at the ceiling. "If you say so," she answered. "Just remember that you don't always have to put up with everything for our sake. It's also not fair to us as well."

Emma patted Cecilia on the head, thankful for the intimate moment they had just shared. "I know." She smiled. "Thank you, sister."

"No, Ducky. We will be dancing today."

Emma blinked, momentarily frozen at the entrance of the ballroom, not the drawing room where their lessons were usually held.

It was a grander space she hadn't yet seen in his estate.

Sunlight poured in from tall arched windows, casting golden streaks across the polished wooden floors.

The furniture had been cleared to the edges, and Solomon stood in the middle of the room. ..

His posture impeccably straight, except for the slight tilt of his head as he stared at her.

He looked every bit the elegant, masculine figure that he was.

Poised, without a hint of strain. It was as if the room itself had bent to his will, the very air thick with his dominance.

Emma, for a moment, forgot how to breathe.

Perhaps, she should have taken Cecilia's advice and stayed away.

"Dancing, you say, Your Grace?" she asked, reluctantly stepping into the room. "Any particular reason? I was hoping we could deepen your understanding of ballroom etiquette today."

"I realized just how rusty I am when we danced at the last ball," he revealed. "I need a refresher."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You danced just fine, Your Grace," she replied, stepping further into the room. She tried to ignore the slight flutter in her chest at the thought of the night in question.

Solomon shook his head, his gaze not leaving hers. "I know you already prepared your lesson for today, but this I insist. I was... stiff. Also, I know but a few steps. But if I'm to make any improvement, I must practice them with you."

Emma, still unsure, glanced toward the door as if contemplating an escape. "But there's no music."

"We don't need music," he answered, taking a step forward. He stretched his hand to her, his gaze unwavering. "Shall we?"

Emma's heart beat a little faster as she stared at his hand, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic dance of their own.

Taking his hand would be a mistake. Her tactic had been to keep her distance from Solomon, to avoid getting too close.

To keep herself from entertaining those.

..thoughts. But now he was tempting her.

Again. And as she stood mere inches from him, she couldn't help but wonder if he was doing this on purpose.

After all, hadn't she refused to dance with him the last time? Was he testing her? To see if she would refuse a dance with him again?

Was this some game to him? A challenge. A way to test my resolve?

"Emma, if you still don't want–"

"No," she answered sharply, fearing that he would come to conclusions in his head. She took his hand without sparing another minute to think and following him.

As Solomon led her to the center of the room, Emma tried to concentrate, trying to piece together the information she had on dancing that could help him be better at it.

But when his hand found hers, she couldn't stop the involuntary flinch from her aching wrist. It was slight, but enough for him to notice.

He paused, his grip tightening ever so slightly, and his gaze sharpened on her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and his eyes searching hers.

Emma quickly shook her head, her heart thumping a little too loudly in her chest. "It's nothing," she replied quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Really, it's nothing."

Solomon's eyes didn't leave hers. He stood very still, watching and waiting for her to say something else. As if her previous response was the wrong answer. He waited silently, until she finally caved.

With a reluctant sigh, Emma lowered her gaze, unable to meet his steady scrutiny any longer. "I... I fell earlier this week," she admitted. "I twisted my wrist. It aches a bit, but it's nothing serious."

Solomon's gaze softened, but only for a moment. He inhaled sharply then guided her to a chair nestled in the shadowy corner of the room, far from the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows.

He helped her settle onto the cushioned seat, his touch lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She couldn't quite place why it unsettled her, but her pulse quickened, nonetheless.

As he crouched before her, his eyes flickered over her wrist. "Let me see," he said lowly, attempting to ease her glove off.

Emma flinched instinctively, her pulse quickening as she recoiled slightly, pulling her hand back from his grasp.

"No, Your Grace," she said quickly. "You cannot do that."

He paused, his hand still hovering near her wrist. She saw the flicker of confusion in his gaze right before she looked away, flustered.

"It's not proper," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Solomon's eyebrows furrowed. "Nothing about our arrangement is proper, Emma," he replied.

Before she could protest, he gently took her wrist, sliding her glove off.

"Solomon," she tried again, but this time her words were softer, less forceful.

As soon as his name slipped from her lips, Emma felt the air between them shift.

His entire body stilled, his eyes widening just for a moment before quickly schooling his features into something unreadable.

It was the first time she had ever called him by his name.

The first time the formality of his title wasn't between them, and in that small, quiet moment, she could see the shock flicker across his face. He had not been prepared for it.

She couldn't look at him, couldn't fully process the tension in her own chest. His gaze seemed to linger on her a second longer, before he finally looked away. He lowered his head slightly, clearing his throat in an almost imperceptible gesture.

"I used to get hurt all the time," he said. "I might be no expert in medicine, but the least I can do is check if it's serious or not."

Solomon gently took her wrist, his touch surprisingly tender, and inspected it closely. His brow furrowed slightly as he tested the flexibility. His fingers felt warm against her skin...almost soothing.

Emma stole the opportunity to watch him as he concentrated on her wrist, and a wave of unfamiliar admiration washed over her.

She couldn't help but notice the fine texture of his skin, less smooth than the polished skin of the gentlemen she had met, but compelling in its own way.

His eyebrows were thick and perfectly arched, framing his sharp eyes in a way that made them appear even more striking.

His lashes, long and dark, flicked downward as he examined her wrist, and she couldn't stop the pang of envy that rose within her just seeing how long and luscious they were.

His lips were full and firm, set in a focused line, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered what it might feel like to have those lips press against her skin. She quickly shook the thought away, but it lingered, taunting her with its softness.

Solomon's face, so ethereal, so meticulously sculpted, was so calming. He was impossibly perfect.

Her breath hitched as she realized she was staring too long, and she quickly averted her gaze, focusing on his fingers instead. She winced when he applied just the slightest pressure on her hand but it wasn't unbearable.

After a moment, he released her wrist and straightened up. "It's nothing serious," he said with a soft exhale. "I reckon it'll hurt for a few more days, but it's nothing to worry about."

"Thank you," she whispered, almost too quietly... still not meeting his eyes.

"You are welcome," he answered and rose to his feet, walking over to the wooden chair by the side to sit. "We don't have to do the lesson today if you aren't up for it."

"No, I want to," she said.

Solomon slowly nodded. "All right."

Emma let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. She slipped her glove back on, thinking of what to say to fill the silence.

"I'm guessing your mama used to treat your many injuries when you were younger?" she asked, smiling at him. "You said you got hurt a lot."

Solomon slowly smiled and sat back. "Yes," he answered. "She was always the one to tend to my scrapes and bruises. Always patient with me, even when I was being... reckless."

Emma blinked, a little surprised at how easily he opened up. "Reckless?" she asked, the smile playing at her lips. She leaned back slightly in the chair, her eyes studying him. "What kind of trouble did you get into as a child?"

Solomon's grin deepened. "A great deal, I'm afraid. Too much to count. I suppose I was always testing my limits, seeing how far I could push before the inevitable consequence. Now that I think about it, I wonder how my mother was able to put up with me."

Emma giggled. "If you were that reckless as a child, how would you handle a son of your own who was just as careless, or as wild?"

Solomon shrugged his shoulders. "Well, thankfully, I never have to experience that."

Emma's eyebrows twitched as she tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Solomon's expression faltered for a fraction of a second. He was quiet for a long moment, his gaze shifting away from her to the space beyond. It was as though he was calculating how much he should share.

"I told you I wasn't interested in the idea of marriage," he said to her. "I'm never having children of my own. The last thing I would wish on any child is a life like mine."

Emma instinctively rose to her feet in shock, unable to believe her ears. "You are fibbing."

"Ducky, it's not that serious," Solomon scoffed. "I know plenty of people who don't want heirs or children. Who have chosen different paths for their lives. It's what I've decided for my future. I don't need to repeat any cycle. It can all just end with me."

"What can just end with you?" she questioned, stepping forward. "Why would you say that? Why would you not want any children?"

Solomon rose to his feet too. "I'm sensing you're upset, Miss Lockhart but I cannot understand why."

Emma swallowed, willing the heat that had overcome her body to cool.

Her chest tightened, and frustration surged through her.

"Because you just said something utterly ridiculous, Solomon!

" she blurted, her voice rising with the heat of her emotions.

"You're shutting yourself off from any possibility of happiness.

You can't just assume that every child would be like the one you were.

Not every marriage has to be a burden or a trap.

You don't have to condemn yourself to a life of loneliness and regret because of some arbitrary decision.

It makes no sense. The best way to add joy and light to your life right now is to find someone and build a life with them.

Teach your children how to become the man you are now. It cannot all go to waste!"

She stepped forward, her anger fueling. "It's cowardice!

You're afraid of what could happen, but you don't even know what it's like.

You've already decided that children, that marriage, aren't worth the risk.

You don't know what you're missing. You can't just throw away something you've never even given a chance. "

Solomon stood still as she caught her breath, his jaw clenched, and his gaze intense but he remained silent.

The silence between them grew heavy, and Emma's words lingered in the air like a storm.

It was as if everything she had been holding inside came rushing out in one single, unforgiving moment and as she settled, she began to realize that she had said too much.

.. suddenly aware that she had pushed him too far.

"I... I am deeply sorry, Your Grace," she stammered, her voice shaking. "I must go. I will make up for today's lesson another time."

Before Solomon could respond, she turned and fled the room, her footsteps echoing down the hall as she ran.