A Duke By Any Other Name

Chapter Seven

O wen was in heaven—and several parts hell.

Thalia . . . naked . . . on his lap.

She was so damn beautiful, her skin flushed with heat, her body a perfect blend of softness and strength. Her hair cascaded down her back in wild, golden waves, catching the candlelight in a way that made her look untamed. And those eyes, glowing with curiosity, with desire, pierced him in a way that made his heart stutter.

His face, neck, and ears burned. Every part of his body burned. The fire at the barn had nothing on her. She was a flame that blazed much hotter.

“Christ, Thalia.” Your turn . “Are you sure?”

“Would I be sitting naked on your lap if I weren’t?” She arched a brow.

He swallowed hard.

“Do you need any help?”

He shivered at that suggestive tone. “God, no,” he instantly denied. Who knew what trouble those fingers might get up to? His hands worked at his trousers, and he shifted his hips to push them down, his movements slightly hindered by her weight still straddling him.

But he loved it.

His arm tightened around her back, pulling her closer as he maneuvered out of the last piece of fabric separating them. Every shift of his body, every press of her against him, sent jolts of heat through him. His lips found the soft curve of her throat, determined to leave no part unexplored, and her fingers tangled in his hair again.

Then there was nothing left between them at all. Christ, if he were to die right now, he couldn’t think of a more perfect place to perish. His hand moved now, finding the warmth of her sex, and his thumb brushed slow, teasing circles before he eased a finger inside. She pressed her hips into his hand, and his cock stole every decision from there.

Raw need took over, and with another finger, he delved deeper, groaning when her fingers fisted in his hair.

“Owen,” she urged softly, her breath uneven, her nails grazing his scalp.

I know. “Lift your hips.” She complied, and he guided himself to her entrance. “Lower yourself down onto me.”

Slowly, she did, inch by excruciating inch, the tightness of her enveloping him, making his breath catch in his throat. His eyes never left her, drinking in every subtle movement—her labored breathing, the way her skin flushed with each shift. Every detail was carved into his mind.

She paused, meeting resistance.

His gaze locked onto hers, and he pushed up. She gasped as he gained full entry. He held himself still, letting her adjust, his thumb sweeping soothing circles along her hip.

“Are you all right?” he murmured.

“If I say no, will you stop?”

“Yes.” He’d crawl on his knees if she asked.

A teasing smile curved her lips, a blow to his heart. “Then I’m fine.”

“Are you making light of me?”

She laughed, breathless. “Yes.”

She began to move, and he moved with her, his mouth capturing her breast as her back arched, molding them closer. His hand stayed firm where their bodies met, pressing against her, meeting her movements.

So right .

He forgot everything else. It was just her, just them, lost in each other. And when they both neared the edge, everything but the feeling of her—so perfect, so real—disappeared. Even his past idiocy melted away, and only one simple question remained. How could he have been a fool for so long?

A fool out of love, a fool in love.

Then, everything exploded in one magical, blinding surge of sensation that knocked the air from his lungs. He captured her cry with his own, a raw sound clawing up from his throat. She shuddered against him, her breaths hot and fast, mingling with his as they both spiraled together, their bodies locked in a pulse that felt eternal.

His fingers traced the curve of her back as she rested against him. He knew, without question, that he’d never be the same. She’d taken root somewhere deep, in a place he hadn’t known was waiting for her—until he learned she’d run away.

The more fool I, he thought . How could I have tarried so long?

*

Thalia stood at the side of the bed, studying Owen’s face. He looked so different in sleep—unguarded, peaceful. Flashes of their night together drifted through her mind, leaving a strange ache in her chest she didn’t quite know how to name. A hazy space that existed between dreams and reality.

For a moment, she considered curling up beside him again, letting dawn slip into morning unnoticed. But as the first light crept across the room, a quiet firmness gathered in her heart.

She inhaled softly, as though just the sound of her own breath might shatter this whole hut, then turned to gather her things, her movements careful, deliberate. Every item she folded, every buckle she fastened, seemed to weigh just a bit more than it should.

It was time to return home.

Things had grown too complicated there, but with the duke involved now, she knew she would no longer need to worry about her uncle forcing her hand again. Owen would never allow such a thing. But lingering in this space between dreams and reality... she couldn’t do that. And Owen’s sudden change of heart toward her—toward them —was hard to trust.

“What are you doing?”

She jerked at the sound of his voice, glancing over her shoulder. Owen was sitting up, his hair mussed from sleep, his gaze sharp.

“Packing,” Thalia said simply.

“Why?”

“Why else? I’m leaving.”

“You’re leaving?” He blinked, frowning. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Home?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, his eyes never leaving her. “Didn’t you just run away from home?”

Thalia arched a brow. “It almost sounds as if you want me to stay.”

“I’m trying to understand what I’ve woken up to.”

“You’ve woken up to me leaving. What is the use of staying here when you’ve already found me? No matter how long you pretend to live as a villager, it’s only a matter of time before I’m dragged back.”

His eyes narrowed, and her pulse quickened.

He took a step closer. “But why now? Right after we...” He didn’t finish the sentence, but his gaze burned into her.

“Just spent the night together?” she finished for him.

“Don’t use that tone.” His jaw tightened. “It’s not something that just happened.”

“But it is,” Thalia countered, her voice steady, though her chest tightened. “It is something that just happened.”

He exhaled sharply. “Fine, you win. But why leave now, after we spent the night together? Shouldn’t we at least talk about what happened?”

She turned away, resuming her packing. “What does it matter when I leave? What does it matter if we talk?”

“It matters because...” He paused, the frustration mounting in his voice. “Because we just spent a night together like husband and wife.”

Ah, bugger. What those words didn’t do to her heart! But now was not the time to give in, to fall for the man’s charm, let alone the words that resonated deeply in her soul. “Again, what does that matter?”

“What do you mean what does that matter? It’s everything !”

She turned back to him, crossing her arms. “And when did it suddenly become everything, Owen? What changed? Is anything going to change between us because of it? Surely, this isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed with someone.”

His face turned red as he stammered, “Me—I... Damn it, Thalia, you haven’t!”

She shrugged. “Well, now I have.”

His eyes darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Is that truly your decision? To walk away from me?”

A flood of conflicting emotions gripped Thalia at that last question. Her heart raced, a part of her wanting to stay, to give in, to allow herself the possibility of something real between them. She had never imagined it could feel like this—so full of promise, yet so terrifying. She didn’t want to leave, not really. But fear clawed at her. She had taken that risk before, only to be left with painful bruises on her heart. Would this time be any different? This time, if she took the leap, would he catch her?

She didn’t know.

And she didn’t think her heart could recover from another fall.

It still hadn’t fully recovered from the first one.

“If walking away means saving us both from misery, then yes, Owen, I’m walking away.”