Page 117 of Bound By the Duke

Lady Scovell stepped forward. Though her hands were clasped together, she was trying hard to keep her composure.

“Perhaps… perhaps you would like to rest first. Tea, to steady?—”

Tea. Goddamn tea.

Percival squeezed his eyes shut, and that seemed to silence the countess. She swallowed and waited for him to look at her.

“No tea.” The words cracked out like a whip. “If I haven’t already made it obvious, I am here to see my wife.” His fierce gaze searched their faces. “So take me to her.”

For a moment, they hesitated, their lips thinning. But the storm in his eyes left no room for argument.

Lady Scovell drew a breath. “She is resting. In her chambers.”

“Then take me there.”

Percival did not ask again. His fists clenched at his sides, causing the leather of his gloves to squeak in protest. His heart was hammering against his ribs, and every second of delay made it worse.

Lord and Lady Scovell exchanged glances, knowing they could not deny him. He was Aurelia’s husband, after all.

But above all, they knew their daughter wanted nothing more than to see him.

Without another word, Lord Scovell turned and began to lead the way. Lady Scovell fell into step beside him.

Percival strode behind them, his steps heavy, impatience radiating off him in waves. The halls of Banfield House were vast, and the walls were lined with portraits and finery.

But he barely saw them. All he saw in his mind was Aurelia.

The walk seemed to last for an eternity before, at last, they reached her chamber door. Lady Scovell pushed it open, andPercival was immediately hit with a familiar scent. That familiar sweet, floral scent. The very one that belonged to his wife.

He hadn’t even seen her yet, but already he was aching with longing. His soul was screaming for her.

He stepped into the room, which had her fingerprints all over it. Pale pink wallpaper with floral patterns graced the walls with a large white rug resembling her cat at the foot of the bed.

The bed…

There she was.

Aurelia was lying on silken sheets, her chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. She was turned slightly onto her side, strands of hair falling across her cheek. Still, he could see her face, pale but peaceful.

She looked like a flower pressed between pages, fragile and untouched. The kind that was supposed to last for eternity.

Percival couldn’t resist. The urge was too strong to ignore, like an ache so deep he thought it might kill him.

He crossed the room with swift strides. He didn’t even think twice about it. No hesitation. No doubt.

Then, he dropped to his knees beside her, reaching for her before reason could catch up. He took her hands gently, as if afraid she would vanish.

Warm. She was warm.

A wave of relief crashed over him, soul-deep. His breath hitched, before he bowed his head and pressed his lips to her skin, unable to help himself.

He trailed desperate kisses across her knuckles, her wrist, the tender curve of her palm. Each one was a prayer, a promise, gratitude.

Lord Scovell cleared his throat softly, but Percival did not look away from Aurelia. His lips lingered on her knuckles, not wanting to release her, not wanting to let her go again.

“She was fortunate,” her father began, his voice low. “Fortunate to have escaped… worse.”

“Fortunate?” Percival’s head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. “She is bleeding.”