Page 29 of The Duke of Fire (The Dukes of Desire #1)
A melia did not expect to see the Duke of Firaine at Lady Ashcombe’s ball. Balls were not his scene. Brothels and secret hunts were. However, she knew in the back of her mind that he would be there.
Sebastian gave her a few minutes to decide whether she would stay in the arrangement or not.
So now, she hesitated outside the green drawing room.
The place seemed like an enchantment, so far away from the sounds of the quadrille and the lively chatter in the ballroom.
She could always leave, bring herself back to the normalcy and light of dancing with people who did not even think of her as their peer.
She raised her knuckles to knock, hating how her heart pounded so hard. She hated how he had this effect on her, giving her anxiety and the urge to obey. Her knuckles connected with the wood. Softly.
“Come in,” a voice said softly.
Even the way he said those two words made her insides twist. Something seemed to curl in her belly, making her whole body tingle. She took in the dim room and the single candelabrum that barely provided illumination.
She blinked. When she opened her eyes, she widened them as much as she could as she adjusted to the low light. There, on an armchair, with shadows covering most of his body, sat Sebastian. His cravat had been loosened, and his shirt was slightly open.
Her breath caught.
It was not just the dimly lit, closed room that lent a seductive intimacy, but it was Sebastian himself. The way he sat so still was unnerving, but in a way that made her want to know more. Know why. Know him . One arm rested on the armrest while another held a glass.
Was he inebriated?
“You came,” he said roughly.
While she could not see his eyes, she could feel many emotions emanating from him, all because of her.
There was anger, the most obvious one. Who dared make the Duke of Firaine wait?
Then, there was relief in the way he said you —like a sigh.
Finally, there was need, the most frightening of them all.
“Your grandmother insisted that I come to the ball. Otherwise, Finch and Octavia would have some sort of reason to keep me home.”
He leaned forward to the light, his eyes twinkling with interest. He tilted his head to one side as he continued looking at her intently.
“She should not have to do that,” he said, a low growl coming from his throat. He set the glass down on the table to his right with a thud. “You should have come back to me willingly. Nobody else, not even my grandmother, should have to tell you to do that.”
She scoffed. Did they move to another room simply to continue the same argument?
“I told you already, I exist outside your world and command. We are in a transactional arrangement. I asked for your help so that I can have freedom. Have you forgotten that, Your Grace?”
“Answer me, Miss Warton,” he began, ignoring what she had just asked him. Frustration simmered within her. He wanted answers, but he would not answer her questions. “I want a straightforward answer. Did you miss me?”
She smirked at that. The duke did not really call her all the way to this room to ask her this question. Did he?
“Did you miss me , Your Grace?”
His eyes flashed at that, and he abruptly stood from his chair. As he approached her, she saw more of his face. The burning eyes. The clenched jaw. His whole body was tense and coiled. He was prepared to pounce, and she was not in the least bit afraid. Instead, she felt excitement and rebellion.
“Do not provoke me, Miss Warton,” he warned, as he drew closer.
“Reminders had to be given, Your Grace,” she returned. She tried to keep the trembling away from her voice. She barely succeeded. “I had to remind you that you do not own me. I am here at my own accord.”
“Because I did not drag you here?” he asked, giving her a lopsided smile. She wondered which one was more frightening—his scowls or his wicked smiles. “You are playing with fire, but expect not to be burned. You cannot imagine what it did to me when you disappeared.”
He looked shocked at himself. But his words could mean different things. It could mean he missed her, or it could mean he missed the game.
Amelia’s lips parted. The truth threatened to spill out of them. She had missed him so badly that her chest ached. However, she also had to deal with Octavia and Finch. Her torture was absolute. While she scrubbed shoes for Octavia until her palms turned red, what was the duke really doing?
Drinking? Looking for other women?
She could not tell him that, even when her body ached from all the hard work, she still thought of his voice and his hands on her. It was a sad affair, but it was what it was.
“You will not answer?” he growled. “I will find a way to make you break down and tell me all that you should be telling me.”
He stepped back slightly, and Amelia exhaled audibly. Was he giving up? No. He was not. He used the distance to look her up and down. And with a low, dangerous voice, he said, “On your knees.”
She must have heard him wrong.
“E-excuse me?” she asked, feeling paralyzed all of a sudden.
“Get on your hands and knees,” he repeated, each syllable drawn out. “On the floor. Right now.”
Even though Octavia ordered her like a servant, nobody had ever told her to act like this. She should refuse.But she heard something else in his tone. Desperation coated his voice, and she would do anything to soothe it.
I must be losing my mind.
It made her obey. Trembling while she slowly lowered herself to the floor, she could hear her pulse in her ears, too.
Finally, she was on her hands and knees on the thick carpet.
Her body naturally arched in her middle, her hips jutting upward.
She felt exposed even though he had not approached her.
He had not touched her yet, and it was making her body tremble with anticipation.
The duke then circled her. Even though she was not looking, she could feel his eyes on her as he assessed the woman he felt had broken the arrangement.
“You defied me,” he declared softly. “Do you think you can provoke me and then disappear?”
“I did not think you would care,” she murmured, even as her body flushed. Yes, her whole body flushed from the exposed pose and the way he was talking to her, as if caressing her with his voice, even though what he was saying should be considered contemptuous.
Amelia should be either angry or rolling in lust, or both, but she could not pretend to be indifferent.
“You are wrong.”
She shivered when she felt his breath on her nape. Her body felt like it would tremble violently when she realized he was now behind her. Desire pooled in her lower belly, but her pride reined her in. So, she bit her lip to stifle a moan.
“I want you to understand that you can never disappear like that again,” he continued, his breath on her ear as his hand descended on her neck.
Amelia wondered why she did not feel any shame or fear.
It might look that way, with her breathing hard as his large hand closed around her slender neck.
His hand did not stay there. It lifted and hovered just above her waist. She wondered if he ever truly wanted to touch her, or if he just happened to have great restraint.
“Tell me, Miss Warton. Why did you stay away? Why did you let me feel like this? So undone?”
Her breath hitched. She no longer held it back. After all, she heard the raw edge and vulnerability of his words and actions.
“I-I did not want to want you,” she admitted, the confession sounding like both defeat and victory. “Not this much, or even at all. After what happened… It was all falling apart, and I knew I had to stay away. I believed that by staying away, the feeling would subside.”
“Did it?” Sebastian asked, as he exhaled. “Did staying away from me make this feeling subside?”
“No,” she groaned, as she shook her head. “It only made everything worse.”
There was silence. Heavy silence. He must have heard the same need from her. He circled her again until he was standing in front of her. Then, he kneeled on one knee, tilting her chin up so that she would meet his eyes.
“Good girl,” he said in that deep, low voice that made her shiver. “It took you too long, but you finally admitted it. However… you know that this is not over, right?”