Page 30 of A Duke Reformed (Icy Dukes #3)

Solomon took another step forward, and then another, until the space between them was gone. Emma found her back brushing the edge of a small alcove in the hallway with nowhere to go. His eyes, dark and unreadable, bore into hers, and she felt every bit of her composure slipping.

It would be no use reminding him how inappropriate this was, that they were alone in a hallway, unchaperoned, and far too close for propriety. He knew. At this point, she understood that Solomon simply wasn't the sort of man who cared for rules that didn't suit him.

And yet, here she stood, still rooted to the spot.

"What did I say, Emma?" he asked, quietly. "What did I say that got you so upset? That I didn't want to have children? That's what upset you so much?"

Emma bit her lower lip, feeling her cheeks flush crimson. "Your Grace, I am terribly sorry for how I spoke," she said. "It wasn't my place and it won't happen again."

"I'm not asking you to apologize," he said to her. "I just want to know why you got upset."

"Your Grace, I am truly sorry," she repeated.

"I said I wouldn't marry. That I didn't want children," he continued, eyes narrowing slightly. "And you looked at me like I had struck you."

"You have every right to live your life as you please," she blurted. "But if you must know, yes, I was upset. Not because of your decision, but because the idea of letting your bloodline end with you is... selfish."

"Selfish?" he asked. "You don't even know why I made that decision."

"If I asked, would you tell me?"

Solomon's shoulders dropped slightly as he peered into her eyes.

"You carry a legacy. A title that has lasted centuries. Men have died to protect that name... your name. And you–" her voice cracked slightly, "You'd throw it all away because you've decided there's no use continuing the line?"

Emma paused, but she knew that she couldn't stop yet.

"You are a man saddled with responsibility, Your Grace," she continued.

"A man of duty. You left your life in Northern England to make sure that the late Duke's business and legacy did not go to ruin.

You did that already. Why stop? You cannot run from that just because it scares you. "

Emma could see it in his eyes...the way they dulled, how his jaw clenched and loosened. He didn't say anything. Again. He didn't argue. He just... stared at her.

And then he stepped back, about to turn and walk away. Instinctively, Emma reached for him, her hand catching his just before he could retreat completely.

"Don't go," she said, her voice trembling. Her fingers tightened slightly around his. "You can talk to me, Solomon. Whatever it is, just say it."

"Not here," he said, turning back to her. "You still owe me a lesson. We can talk then, Ducky."

Ducky.

Her breath caught at the sound of it. She relaxed instinctively, disarmed by the familiarity in his tone.

Before she could gather herself enough to reply, Solomon reached for the hand she still had resting on his sleeve. Slowly... deliberately, he took it into his. His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles as he turned fully to face her.

"How's your wrist?" he asked.

Emma drew in a nervous breath. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"Good."

He lifted his eyes from her hand, and for a moment, she thought he might meet her gaze. But he didn't. Instead, they dropped, slowly, almost reverently, down to her lips.

Emma felt the shift in the air as palpably as one feels the hush before a storm.

His gaze didn't graze her, it settled, anchored there with an intensity that made her knees nearly buckle beneath her.

It felt as though he were memorizing the shape of her mouth, the parting of her lips, the breath that trembled between them.

She dared not move.

The world seemed to collapse around that single moment, that single look.

Without thinking, her lips parted slightly to say something that could fill the deep silence but Solomon's thumb – the one that had rested so lightly on her hand – moved, as if guided by some force beyond them both.

Emma shut her eyes, as he brought it to her lips, his touch warm and barely there, yet enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, a subtle motion that made her pulse quicken, and she couldn't help but lean ever so slightly into the contact, almost as if she were drawn by some magnetic pull.

"Miss Lockhart?"

But before the moment could unravel... before she could decide whether to lean in or retreat, a voice pierced through it, shattering the fragile stillness like a dropped glass on marble. She gasped and stepped back, coming down from the clouds.

"Are you all right?" the voice came from behind Solomon, slightly distant.

As her vision cleared, she realized who it was. Lord Pembleton. "I'm fine, my lord," she managed to answer, trying to mask the slight tremor in her voice. She turned toward him, offering a reassuring smile. "I was just saying hello to His Grace."

Solomon, still standing near her, didn't even acknowledge Lord Pembleton's presence. His eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before his jaw tightened, and he began to turn away.

"I'll see you tomorrow for our lesson, Ducky," he said only to her.

Without waiting for her response, he stepped back, his broad shoulders brushing past the doorframe as he walked away without so much as a glance at Lord Pembleton.

The air seemed to shift again as he exited, leaving Emma standing in the hallway, her heart racing as she tried to steady her breathing. Lord Pembleton, now standing at her side, appeared slightly puzzled but didn't press her further.

"You're certain you're all right?" Lord Pembleton repeated, more softly this time.

Emma nodded and smiled. "I am fine, my lord. Thank you."

Lord Pembleton's gaze lingered a moment longer, but he nodded. "I'll see you at the Featherington Ball then," he said. "Save me a dance."

Emma curtsied. "Of course, my lord."

Lord Pembleton's gaze softened slightly. With a final nod, he turned to rejoin the crowd, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the distance.

Emma stood still for a moment longer, her mind still tangled with thoughts of Solomon.

Her pulse, which had yet to settle from their earlier encounter, was a reminder that her emotions were anything but calm.

She tried to push the thoughts away, convincing herself that it was all just fleeting. It had to be.

But the deeper truth of her heart was already beginning to make itself known. And no matter how much she tried to deny it, Emma knew she was already too far gone.