Page 73 of Bound By the Duke

Her eyes widened, caught off guard.

Percival asking her for a dance, despite being her husband, was something she could easily view as an unachievable goal. But here he was, standing before her, after uttering the words that still managed to freeze the air around her.

However, when her lips parted so she could agree, her heart flipped. It wasn’t only his striking charm or the intensity of his gaze, but also her nerves.

She tried to look away, to busy herself with her skirts as certain thoughts flooded her mind. It was a huge responsibility being his wife, hissecondwife.

What if she didn’t act well enough? What if she couldn’t dance well enough? What if her steps weren’t as splendid as the ones to which he was accustomed?

Aurelia tried to take a deep breath, to silence those thoughts. His hand hovered between them, waiting, but she was trembling, consumed by her insecurities.

“Aurelia,” he called in the softest of voices.

She melted. It did something to her, calming her in the strangest of ways.

Her brown eyes slowly rose back to his face. And that moment, she realized that was all she needed. Not some disturbing thoughts or depressing fear. All she needed was that charming face of his.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers curled around hers in appreciation. It was a most subtle movement, but its effect was undeniable. Heat filled the tiny space between them as they moved toward the throng, their dark colored attire matching in a way that made them stand out.

Every eye turned toward them, following the feared Duke of Whitmore and his duchess. Aurelia’s pulse spiked, but something about the feel of Percival’s palm pressed firmly against her back—guiding her into the circle of dancers—soothed her nerves.

The music swelled when the second dance began. With a hot possessiveness, Percival took her hand and lifted it. And, at that moment, Aurelia wanted him to do with her whatever he pleased.

They moved to the music, almost on instinct. His hand cradled her waist, his fingers spanning the curve through the silk of her gown.

All she felt was him. How he laced his other hand through hers, pulling her arm up and out until her chest pressed against his. Surely he must have felt her heart thudding against her ribs.

And when she least expected it, he broke the silence, his tone dipped. “Tell me… Did you use to dream of nights like this?”

His mouth nearly grazed her ear, each syllable making her shiver.

A memory with Celia resurfaced at that question. It made Aurelia smile softly.

“Yes,” she answered in a whisper. “I dreamed of it endlessly.”

Percival paused, studying her face. “And now?”

His hand slid higher, just beneath her shoulder blades, though his thumb stroked dangerously close to the side of her breast.

Her lips parted. A sound escaped her, half laugh, half whisper. “Now it is… more. And less. I am not the girl I used to be back then.”

“No.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, lingering there, unreadable and devastating. “No, you are not.”

She gasped softly when his hand slid across her back, pulling her flush against him. Eventually, their steps settled into a rhythm. Her skirts tangled around his boots, and her thighs brushed against his.

Every touch threatened to undo her composure. Threatened to reveal that she was wet for him on the polished ballroom floor.

“I was their disappointment,” she suddenly confessed.

Aurelia wasn’t sure why she said that. But standing in the ballroom made her remember nights when her parents were too ashamed to look at her because she had yet to find a suitor.

“My parents,” she murmured, almost to herself, “were always strict. But after Celia… after she was caught in a scandal, everything became more difficult. More suffocating. They feared the same of me. Demanded perfection. And when I failed…” She swallowed, keeping her chin high even as her throat tightened. “I became their disappointment.”

Percival said nothing for a moment, but she could feel his gaze burning into her.

“You should know,” she added quickly, forcing cheer into her voice, “that I never blamed Celia. She is happy now with the man she loves. I only… I only wish they had let me be happy, too.”