Chapter 12
Camelia’s heart pounded as she bolted out of the drawing room and hurried to the front door, her skirts swishing against her legs.
He can’t leave yet, not without hearing me out!
Her sisters’ laughter still echoed in her ears, the sound a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in her chest. Their parting words had left her reeling.
He’s impossible, but I won’t let him walk away thinking I’m ungrateful.
She pushed through the door, expecting to find his carriage gone. But as she stepped into the cool evening air, she froze. There, in the gravel drive, stood her father and the Duke beside the carriage, shaking hands.
They’ve been talking? About what?
Her stomach twisted as she watched her father nod solemnly before turning back to the house, his shoulders no longer hunched with the weight of their family’s despair. She ducked behind a hedge, her breathing shallow, waiting until his footsteps faded into the manor.
Now or never, Camelia.
As the carriage door began to close, Camelia darted forward, her slippers crunching on the gravel.
She yanked the door open and climbed inside, her heart racing as she faced the Duke, who was lounging in the plush velvet seat, one eyebrow arched in utter surprise.
“Lady Camelia.” His voice was laced with amusement. “This is… unexpected.”
She steadied herself, her hands gripping the edge of the seat as the carriage rocked slightly.
“I need to apologize!” she blurted, struggling to catch her breath.
“Apologize?” The Duke’s eyebrow rose higher, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “For what, exactly? Bursting into my carriage like a tempest?”
“On behalf of Margaret,” she continued, ignoring his remark. “She was out of line, teasing you like that.”
“Was she?” The Duke leaned forward with interest. “Your sister’s tongue is sharp, but I’ve heard worse. She’s spirited, I’ll give her that.”
“And…” Camelia swallowed, her pulse quickening. “I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for my family.”
The Duke’s smirk widened, his gaze locked on hers with an intensity that made her heart flutter.
“Very honorable of you, Lady Camelia,” he teased, but his voice had an edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “But you must know this is highly improper—jumping into my carriage like that. Alone and unchaperoned.”
Her knees weakened, that familiar sensation washing over her as it did every time they were alone.
Why does he do this to me?
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze with the same intensity. “No matter what I do, you always find flaws,” she said, sharper than she had intended. “I come to apologize, to honor our agreement, and you call me improper? You’re impossible to please, Your Grace.”
“Oh, trust me, little flower,” he purred, “pleasing me is simpler than you think.”
He rose from his seat with a predator’s grace and slid onto the velvet bench beside her, his broad frame filling the cramped space until the air seemed to hum.
Camelia’s fingers were curled into the folds of her skirts as she fought to steady herself against the heat of his nearness.
He’s too close, too overwhelming. How does he unravel me so easily?
“You climb into my carriage, bold as brass,” he whispered, his lips curling into a dangerous smile. “I’d say you’re the one defying convention, Camelia.”
Her heart pounded, but she tilted her chin, pride sparking in her chest.
“And does my boldness please you, Your Grace?” she asked innocently. “Or will I require some of your… discipline for it?”
A sharp intake of breath betrayed his composure, and before he could recover, a low, throaty chuckle escaped him. The sound reverberated through her like a pulse, sending goosebumps across her skin. She struggled to hold his gaze, and a flush spread from her cheeks to her chest.
“Careful, little flower,” he murmured, leaning so close that she felt his breath against her ear. “Keep speaking like that, and you’ll find out just how much of your defiance… pleases me.”
She swallowed thickly. “I’ve reviewed your terms,” she began, forcing her voice to stay steady. “And I have an objection. There will not be an heir. Not until I decide it’s the right time.”
The Duke’s eyes narrowed, a spark of amusement dancing in their depths, and he brushed a strand of her hair from her face.
“An objection?” he drawled. “You think you can dictate terms to me, Camelia?”
“I’m not your property,” she shot back, though her voice broke. “I’ll marry you, I’ll raise Pamela, but an heir? That’s my choice, not yours.”
He chuckled, a dark, velvety sound that sent a thrill through her. “You think you can hold out against me?” His voice dropped as he slid closer, his hand brushing her thigh and arm. “Soon, little flower, you’ll be begging for my touch.”
Camelia felt a wave of heat flood her body, and she tried to quell the lust his words ignited.
I won’t let him win so easily.
“You’re right,” she muttered. “This is improper. We’re unchaperoned, after all. Perhaps I should go.”
His hand caught her wrist, gentle but strong, pulling her closer until their faces were inches apart.
“Correct,” he murmured, his breath warm against her cheek. “But don’t expect propriety when we’re behind closed doors, Camelia. Not with me.”
“You’re a rake,” she whispered, scowling at him.
But the insult did not mask her desire.
He’s too much, too intense, and yet I can’t pull away.
“Yes, I am familiar with that title,” he said, his lips curling into another dangerous smile. “You’re free to leave this carriage, Camelia. You’re not restrained… yet you stayed.”
Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her body was rooted to the spot, drawn to him despite every instinct screaming at her to flee.
I should go. I should—
But her feet wouldn’t move, and her eyes locked onto his lips.
“Restraining me would never work,” she murmured. “I value my freedom too much.”
Raph’s eyes smoldered as he leaned closer, his breath a warm tease against the curve of her neck. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his lips to the sensitive skin just below her ear.
The soft, lingering kiss sent a jolt through her, igniting every nerve. Her heart raced, a flush spreading across her chest as the heat of his mouth seared her skin, promising more than she dared to imagine.
He’s unraveling me, and I can’t stop it.
“Oh!” A gasp escaped her lips as the sensation rippled through her, a wave of desire that left her trembling.
Her hands gripped the velvet seat, desperate for an anchor as her body betrayed her by leaning into his touch.
His lips curved against her skin, a low hum vibrating in his throat as his teeth grazed the tender flesh with a teasing bite that sent a shiver down her spine. Camelia’s body moved of its own accord, arching slightly towards him, her breath coming in soft, uneven pants.
This is madness.
Her mind was a whirl of want and warning, yet she couldn’t pull away, caught in the pull of his warmth and the possessive edge of his touch.
His hand slid to her waist, fingers splaying with a gentle but firm pressure, anchoring her as his lips trailed lower. A second, softer bite coaxed another gasp from her lips.
The Duke pulled back slightly, his eyes molten with desire, his voice a low, gravelly growl that seemed to stroke her skin.
“Go, then,” he whispered, his lips hovering tantalizingly close to hers, the heat of his breath a sultry promise of more.
The gap between them pulsed with unspoken desire, and the air was thick with an invitation that threatened to consume her.
I should leave, but every part of me aches for him.
Her body was alight with a forbidden need, every inch of her acutely aware of his nearness, the way his broad frame seemed to draw her in like a moth to a flame.
Camelia’s lips parted, but her voice was lost in the haze of his intoxicating presence.
A soft, needy whimper escaped her before she could stop it, a sound that betrayed the heat pooling between her legs.
The Duke’s eyes flashed with hunger, and he didn’t hesitate. He growled as his lips claimed hers in a fierce, ravenous kiss, a collision of heat and urgency that stole her breath and set her senses ablaze.
Oh God!
His hand cupped her face, fingers threading into her hair possessively, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of her lips until she opened for him, and she let out a soft moan that he swallowed.
“Raph,” she breathed and melted into him, her hands clutching his coat, fingers digging into the fabric as if to anchor herself against the storm of sensation.
The hard planes of his chest met the swell of her breasts, and the contact sent a wave of pleasure through her that made her knees tremble.
I have to stop.
But she did not pull away, her heart racing with fear and exhilaration. She arched closer, her hips and breasts brushing against him, and the friction made a delicious ache pulse in her core.
The sensation was new to her, and she almost yelled out in ecstasy, but the Duke covered her mouth with his hand. His other hand slid to her waist, his fingers splaying with a commanding pressure, pulling her flush against him until there was no space left between them.
“You will be mine, Camelia.”
The whispered promise sent her reeling.
Her lips moved against his with desperate fervor, kissing him back with a passion she hadn’t known she possessed. Every touch was a surrender to the desire that threatened to unravel her completely.
The Duke pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing ragged.
“Why did you stop?” she asked, disappointed.
“Be patient, little flower,” he murmured. “Tomorrow, you’ll be mine.”