Page 37 of The Duchess and the Beast

“Your trap?” He spun around to face her again. “What trap? What are you plotting?”

“Plotting?To have supper with you, of course!” she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“As we were going to,” he pointed out, a quick glance at the locked doors, a hint of panic now creeping up inside of him. “Please, if you will just join me in the dining room, we can–”

“No.”

“No?!” He balked at her curt response. “What do you mean, no?! I demand whoever is at the other side of that door to unlock it at once!” He strode toward her with the force of a tempest. “And I demand that you—”

“You may issue as many commands as you please.” She stood firm, chin raised. If she was afraid at all, she masked it rather well, meeting his gaze squarely. “But the doors shall remain sealed until we have dined.”

Sebastian halted just short of her. Towering above her now, she stood resolute as ever. He could feel the familiar stirrings of rage beginning to surface within him, and his voice came out in a strained whisper. “Please...” He spoke stiffly. “Open the doors, Virtue. I do not do well in enclosed spaces with others.”

“No.”

He clenched his jaw tightly. “Believe me, Virtue, it is for your own good.”

“And it is for your own good if for once, you listened to your wife,” she chided lightly.

It wasn’t that Sebastian feared being alone with Virtue. It was that he feared what might happen if there was nowhere for her to run. He had struggled before, moments where his anger seemed to act of its own accord—a stark reminder of battles both internal and external that left scars too deep to see. The thought of such a moment occurring again, with Virtue having no means to retreat, chilled him to the bone.

“I am not afraid of you,” she whispered, her voice soothing and her eyes gentle upon him.

“You should be,” he replied through gritted teeth, forcing himself to relax, which he was doing now, if only just.

“Is that what you want?”

“What? No, of course not.” He met her gaze directly, earnestly, his expression softening to show that his outburst was not born of anger but of deep-seated concern. “But that does not mean you shouldn’t be.”

She shook her head lightly, a faint, sultry smile playing on her lips. “You think yourself quite dangerous and fearsome, do you not?”

“I am.”

She laughed softly. “Well, you really are not. Though you may play the part well, I see beyond the façade, Sebastian. You may be quick to anger, indeed, but a monster? A beast that devours children who get too close to his castle? Hardly.”

“I—”

“Enough of that.” She reached down and took his hand, and where he thought to pull it back, strangely, her gentle touch soothed him in a way he hadn’t expected it to. “We are dining here tonight, and that is final.” She raised an eyebrow, her resolve clear.

Despite his reservations, Sebastian found himself finally relenting. “…All right. I suppose that for one night, I can try to manage.”

“See, was that so difficult?” Virtue giggled.

“You have no idea,” he returned.

Still clasping his hand, Virtue guided him to the blanket spread out on the library floor. They settled across from each other, the room around them softly illuminated by candles, creating an intimate enclave removed from the rest of the world. It was the most vulnerable Sebastian had felt since their wedding night, but as he looked into his wife’s eyes—eyes alight with warmth and fondness—he felt a reassuring calm wash over him.

For Virtue, if nothing else.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As Virtue watched Sebastian ease into the evening, she could almost visibly see the tension melt away from his body. He sat more relaxed now, one knee casually bent with his elbow resting upon it as he leaned forward slightly. His breathing had evened out too, the earlier flush of agitation had faded from his cheeks, and most tellingly, his eyes—there was a sparkle there. An unguardedness that she had begun to notice in her husband as this week had unfolded. A side to him she had known to exist but had worked had to coax out.

Her plan, albeit daring, was beginning to bear fruit.

“And she hasn’t spoken to you since?” he laughed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. He lifted his glass of brandy to his lips—his second of the evening.

“Not once!” Virtue explained with a playful pout. “And it is not funny.”