Page 21 of The Beast’s Unwanted Duchess (Icy Dukes #1)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

A lice lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the ball.

Everything felt so surreal, and if she had not experienced it herself, she wouldn’t have believed it had happened.

She had spent the entire evening by Victor’s side, completely forgetting to look out for Lavinia and Emma.

They had danced three times, and it was only now, as she lay tucked into bed, that she started to feel the effects of it. For one, there didn’t seem to be a wall anymore. Victor seemed approachable now as if the distance between them had melted away in that ballroom.

It still gagged her that he had laughed in public.

This was a man known for always being serious; his reputation built on an unyielding demeanor.

Yet, he had shared a laugh with her. It was as if he had allowed her a small glimpse into his heart, and that realization both thrilled and terrified her.

Alice sat up from the bed. It wasn’t enough. For some reason, she wasn’t satisfied with the conversations they had that evening. She wanted more. She wanted to know more about him. Why he didn’t like it when she swam or sat by a window...why he wasn’t so open to change.

What kind of books did he enjoy reading? What else did he do during his spare time?

"What does a quiet man do to have some fun?" she wondered.

Determined not to let the fire die, she rose from the bed, threw on her robe, and made her way out of the room.

She feared Victor would rethink his decision to open up to her and mount that ridiculous wall again.

She couldn’t let that happen. They had started something nice, and she wanted to sustain it.

It was late, and he was probably asleep, but the impulse to seek him out was too strong to resist. She could already imagine them chatting by the fireside, sipping warm milk while the flames crackled softly in the background.

Alice had always envisioned moments like this after getting married, and the thought that her dream was coming to life filled her with excitement.

Alice approached Victor’s door, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She knocked twice, her knuckles tapping lightly against the wood. "Victor?" she called softly, unsure if he would even be awake.

Alice gently opened the door and peeked inside, her heart racing. Reluctant to intrude, she tiptoed in. The room was dimly lit, and there, in the middle of the bed, was Victor. He seemed to be asleep, but as she watched, she noticed his lips moving, forming words that were barely audible.

"Victor?" she called out to him softly, noticing that he was shifting uncomfortably in his sleep.

"Your fault....it’s your fault," she heard him mutter as he shivered.

Victor’s brows furrowed deeper, and he shifted restlessly, as if trying to escape whatever shadow haunted him in his dreams. Alice panicked and she assessed him, trying to figure out what to do. She squeezed his shoulder gently, hoping that it would rouse him.

Alice panicked, her heart racing as she assessed the situation.

Victor’s distress was palpable, and her initial attempts to rouse him weren’t working.

He remained lost in his nightmare, and she could feel a surge of urgency rising within her.

Without thinking twice, she slipped into the bed beside him, instinctively curling herself around him in a protective embrace.

"It’s all right," she whispered, patting his head on her shoulder. "It’s only a dream."

She pressed her face into his hair, hoping her presence would anchor him back to reality. Slowly, she felt him relax beneath her as he subconsciously leaned into her.

Alice continued to caress him, suddenly feeling guilty.

She wondered if their conversation at the ball had unintentionally opened a door to the pain he kept locked away.

It had been a delicate moment, and now she wondered if it had stirred something deep within him, something that had long remained dormant.

The thought that she might have triggered these nightmares filled her with concern, and she wished she could take away the shadows haunting him.

As his breathing started to even out, Alice felt the warmth of each breath against her neck, his steady exhalations gently brushing her skin.

Her heart raced as she realized he had relaxed enough to reach for her, his fingers curling instinctively around a handful of her dress as though grounding himself in her presence.

She held her breath, startled by the unexpected intimacy.

She could feel his weight shift against her as he got comfortable.

He stopped muttering, and his shoulders eased.

Alice shut her eyes, allowing herself to settle into the moment. Perhaps it was best not to push any further. She could wait until he was ready to talk again. The last thing she wanted was to cause him any more pain by forcing him to talk about his past.

She could at least try to be a source of strength for him, not another weakness.

"Mother..." she heard him whisper before he completely eased into her embrace and went back to sleep.

Victor hugged the pillow tighter as he roused from his slumber.

His brows relaxed, and the faintest of frowns softened on his face.

He didn’t want to get up. He felt entirely too comfortable, an unfamiliar sensation, given that he usually couldn’t wait to escape the morning stillness.

He wondered if perhaps it was because of the pillow.

It felt different...weird. It was warmer, unsteady, and soothingly alive, and it seemed to be holding him down, urging him to stay in the embrace of sleep.

The pillow was moving.

He froze. The pillow was breathing.

His senses finally stirred fully awake, and his eyes flew open before he jolted from the bed, staring at the figure curled beside him.

"Alice?" he mumbled, recognizing her instantly.

Alice stirred and turned over, slipping deeper into sleep. She was there, nestled against him, her presence familiar and disarming. The first thing he did was pause to confirm if he was still dreaming or if Alice was truly in bed with him.

Victor’s brow furrowed in confusion, his mind piecing together the night before. The last thing he recalled was slipping into bed, exhausted after the ball and a quiet bath in Alice’s bathroom. She had come to him in the middle of the night.

But why?

Alice stirred again, turning to face him.

Victor took a steadying breath, watching her peaceful expression for a moment.

His gaze lingered on her as she lay beside him, her features softened in sleep.

She didn’t look feisty in her slumber. In fact, she appeared rather innocent, far removed from the fiery woman who liked arguing with him.

The sunlight seeped into the room, shining almost directly on Alice’s face.

Victor noticed this and instinctively raised his arm, shielding her face from the harsh light.

The soft tendrils of morning light played across her features, and he couldn’t help but admire how serene she looked in that moment, completely unaware of his presence.

Somehow, he found himself wanting to cherish that moment. Part of him wanted to reach out, to brush the stray strands of her hair that tickled her face, but he held himself back, knowing he couldn’t let his guard down so easily.

After a moment, he reluctantly turned away, slipping silently out of bed to clear his thoughts.

He needed to start his day, but he also needed some sort of distraction to loosen up.

As he prepared for the day, putting on a fitted shirt and black trousers, he decided to visit the training yard where he could meet Andrew for a boxing match.

It had been far too long since he’d last seen his friend, and he knew he owed him an outing since he was back at the estate.

Once prepared for the day, Victor made his way out of the estate. As he reached the grand staircase, he paused under the ornate archway, spotting Roberts standing nearby, carrying a stack of documents.

"Roberts," Victor called out to him.

"Your Grace?" he answered, stepping forward.

"I’ll be at the training yard for the rest of the morning," he said to him, adjusting his collar. "Do me a favor, encourage Alice to have breakfast. Just because I’m not here does not mean she should skip it."

"I will let her know, Your Grace," he said. "Is there anything else you require?"

"I need my horse," he said. "Inform the stable hands to prepare him for a ride."

"Of course, Your Grace," Roberts replied, nodding before making his way to the stables.

Victor stepped out into the crisp morning air, the scent of dew and fresh grass awakening his senses.

Once the horse was ready, he made his way towards the training yard.

The boxing arena was by the side of the field.

Andrew owned it and was there almost all the time, training people, boxing to blow off steam, or conducting business.

Victor was greeted by the familiar sounds of fists striking leather echoing in the open space when he walked in. He found Andrew already in the ring, his shirt clinging to him as he sparred with another fighter. On seeing him, Andrew paused and smiled brightly.

"Well, look who it is," he said and shook his head, bringing his hands to his hips. "Come to join the fray, or are you just here to spectate?"

Victor smirked. "I’ve come to remind you who the better boxer is."

Andrew gestured for his boxing partner to leave the ring, and the man obliged, greeting Victor with a nod as he stepped out. Once they were alone, Andrew turned back to Victor. "Where do you get your confidence from? You have not boxed in months, and you think you can take me on?"

Victor chuckled, rolling his shoulders as he loosened up. "Confidence? It’s called knowing you’re due for a good thrashing."

Andrew chuckled. "If you say so. Just don’t get bitter when you lose."