Page 31 of Bound to the Heartless Duke (Regency Beasts #4)

T he days dragged on like a waltz ascribed to the wrong tempo.

Lily had never considered herself a particularly patient woman, but the game she was playing with Magnus tested every ounce of her patience.

She had vowed to make him crack. She would seduce him, tempt him, drive him to the edge of reason.

And yet, maddeningly, he remained composed, cool, unaffected. Or so he pretended.

By the fourth day of this infuriating dance, she had begun to wonder if her entire plan had been foolish. Or desperate.

Her confidence wavered, and sometimes she wondered if it was better to abide by his rules.

But then came the evening of the charity gala. It was their first public appearance as the Duke and Duchess. And if she were going down in defeat, then by heaven, she would do so spectacularly.

The ride back from the gala was shrouded in the darkness of night and the soft sounds from the distant woods.

The countryside was cast in shadows, but in the carriage, the light flickered low, casting a sheen over the interior.

Taking a deep breath, Lily leaned back into her seat, her gloves discarded and her fingers playing with the ribbons at her neckline. She could feel her husband watching her as he seemed to always do. His eyes left heated paths as they trailed everywhere her fingers stopped.

“I must admit,” she said, her voice a soft drawl as she turned her head to him, “being your Duchess is a rather exhausting affair. So many people to flatter. So many eyes.”

“You flatter them easily,” Magnus replied, his voice as dark as the space between them. “Too easily, perhaps.”

Lily gave a slow, deliberate smile. “Is that… jealousy I detect?”

He didn’t answer. But there was something about his silence that always gave it way—the fact that she had struck a chord.

“Well,” she sighed, shifting in her seat so her bare shoulder was exposed to him, her gown slipping ever so slightly. “It’s not my fault if half the male population of Wiltshire wants to kiss my hand.”

“I noticed that no one succeeded,” he said. “Did you deny them all?”

She leaned closer, her lips a breath away from his jaw. “Perhaps I was saving myself… for someone more deserving.”

She felt his hand flex against his knee, but he still didn’t touch her. His restraint or whatever he was doing was maddening, causing her to almost burst out.

Leaning back slightly, she crossed one leg over the other in a way that let her skirt ride up a little too high.

She wasn’t going to give up. Now, it had turned into a game for her. To see how long her husband would resist her advances before caving. She was curious to know.

“You haven’t said a word about how I looked tonight,” she murmured innocently, breaking the silence. “Was my attire not to your liking?”

“You looked dangerous.”

His answer had come sharp and unexpected.

She froze, then blinked, before returning her gaze to him. “That’s not an answer,” she pointed out, trying to maintain her composure.

“It is,” he countered, his voice tight, before looking at her. “You looked like a woman who knows the power she holds and is reckless enough to wield it.”

She smiled to herself at those words.

“Is that what frightens you?” she asked, scooting closer until their knees touched. “Is it, Your Grace?”

He didn’t look away, his eyes lingering on hers, smoldering with an undecipherable emotion. But then his lips curled into a smile that somehow met his eyes.

“Darling, I don’t get scared easily.”

The disappointment was evident on her face when he shifted even closer to the window, putting more distance between them.

The carriage rocked slightly as it turned into the estate’s long drive.

Lily sat back, her mind racing. Although that was disappointing, there seemed to be a slight improvement that night. It wasn’t obvious, but he was unraveling beneath his cold exterior.

And that was good.

The next morning came, dawning bright and warm on the estate. It brought a rare heat that begged for escape.

Lily took it as a sign.

A sign to slip out early, ignore her lady’s maid’s protests, and make her way to the river at the edge of the grounds. The walk alone calmed her nerves. The scent of summer hung thick in the air—a mix of wildflowers, warm sun, fresh grass, and the faintest hint of honeysuckle.

When she arrived at the water’s edge, she smiled to herself. She loved the way the river shimmered in the sunlight like a glass ribbon. In that fleeting moment, she was reminded of Nathan. He loved bathing in fresh hot water.

She quickly shook off the thought, before slowly shedding her outer garments. The cold draft of air blowing about her warned her of her foolishness yet she was undettered.

She stepped into the current, moving deeper until the coldness at the bottom licked at her thighs and soaked her through.

“This is so good,” she whispered to herself, tilting her face up to the sun and letting out a long breath.

For a while, all she did was swim, letting her limbs move through the water as her thick hair fanned out behind her.

She was so absorbed in the tickle of the water on her skin that she didn’t register the subtle shift in the air initially.

Her legs slowed in the water. She felt a prickle at the back of her neck, as if someone was watching her.

To confirm her guess, she turned her head, and sure enough, there he stood.

Magnus.

He stood on the riverbank, his arms folded and his figure shadowed beneath a tree. As usual, he was tall, sharp, infuriatingly composed. But his gaze? His gaze was trained on her, like she were the only interesting thing in the vicinity.

Even when she caught him, he didn’t stop watching her, and he showed no intention of hiding it.

And she knew then that she was winning.

However, she didn’t smile. Not yet. Rather, she slowly swam to the edge, water dripping down her neck and shoulders.

When she reached the riverbank, she emerged from the water gingerly, revealing her figure inch by inch.

Her garments were soaked through and transparent, clinging to her breasts, thighs, and belly.

Her eyes flicked to him. He was still watching her, and the look on his face… It was riveted. Entranced. Hungry.

“Enjoying the sun, Your Grace?” she asked breathlessly, lifting her arms to wring the water from her hair.

Magnus didn’t answer immediately, because they both knew what she was doing. And she wanted him to know.

When he still didn’t respond, she looked at him with a slightly arched eyebrow.

Finally, his voice came, rough and deep. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Duchess.”

She laughed inwardly before stepping toward him, water trickling down her legs, her bare feet brushing the grass. “Isn’t it more thrilling when the stakes are high?”

Still no movement. Still that unreadable expression. But something in his stance betrayed the tension, the heat.

She leaned closer to him, so close that her lips nearly brushed his ear.

“I have something to show you,” she whispered.

His gaze flickered to her face immediately. But she didn’t wait for his answer; she didn’t need to. She bent to pick up her garments, dressing ever so slowly and walked back to the manor, her hips swaying gently with every movement.

She didn’t look back.

She didn’t have to.

She knew she had his eyes on her all the while she moved.

Back in her room, Lily paced like a woman possessed.

Moments ago, she’d been all confidence and curves, dripping water and innuendo. Now, standing in her chamber, dressed in her silk robe with nothing beneath, she was filled with nerves.

What if he didn’t come? What if he hadn’t cared?

What if he stayed true to that impossible vow of his? What if he had watched her walk away and still managed to bury all of that fire beneath his wretched self-control?

That could be possible. He was the Duke of Blackmore, after all.

For the tenth time, she walked to the window, barefoot and impatient. Her fingers gripped the sill, her nose pressed to the glass pane as her eyes swept the grounds below. The river still shone like silver in the distance, and the trees rustled in the breeze, but he was nowhere in sight.

Her heart sank with sadness. He must have returned?—

Suddenly, she saw a figure. Tall. Dark. Poised.

Magnus.

She couldn’t stop her breath from catching as she watched him make his way across the garden path. She couldn’t hide her smile.

She noticed that he wasn’t wearing his coat, and his waistcoat was completely undone. His dark hair looked slightly windblown from where he’d stood by the river. Most importantly, there was something untamed about him, like a storm on the verge of breaking out.

As he walked, he didn’t look up. But she knew he was coming to her.

A thrill ran through her at the realization.

Quickly, she turned from the window and rushed to the door.

Her hands fumbled with the latch as she unlocked it.

She didn’t open it, not wanting to seem too eager, and then quickly returned to the bed, where the silk coverlets had already been arranged just so.

Her robe remained loosely tied around her body. She sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs in a way that would give him a glimpse of her bare skin. Then, she rested her hands in her lap.

“Calm down, Lily,” she muttered to herself, clearing her throat.

She sat there for a few moments, and the silence stretched. And then, a knock sounded at the door. It was soft, barely audible, but it was all she needed.

It was all she had been waiting for.

She exhaled slowly, willing her voice not to tremble. “You may enter.”

Immediately, the door creaked open.

Magnus stepped inside like a man walking into temptation. He walked in slowly, almost warily, and the look in his eyes told of someone who knew this was a mistake even before it had happened.

He said nothing at first, just took her in.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice quiet but teasing. “I was beginning to think you’d lost interest.”

His jaw tightened. “I haven’t.”