Chapter 28 #2
The fare was unlike anything June had ever tasted—flat breads warm from the oven, fragrant rice studded with nuts and dried fruits, tender lamb in a sauce that indeed carried a slow-building heat, and vegetables prepared with unfamiliar but delicious spices.
"This is extraordinary," she said after her first few bites. "You've truly brought Damascus to Yorkshire."
"The highest praise," Dominic responded, his pleasure evident in the warmth of his smile. "Though I confess, it's not quite the same without the sound of the marketplace outside, or the call to prayer echoing across the city at sunset."
"Tell me about it," June urged, captivated by this glimpse into worlds she'd only read about. "What was Damascus like?"
As they ate, Dominic painted pictures with his words—of ancient streets and ornate fountains, of markets filled with silks and spices, of courtyards hidden behind plain facades where orange trees grew and fountains played.
He spoke of the people he'd met, the customs he'd learned, the foods he'd discovered.
June watched him as he talked, his face animated in a way she'd rarely seen it.
This was a different Dominic than the one who moved through Society with careful control, different even from the man who'd shown her Icemere's grounds with quiet pride.
This was Dominic unguarded, passionate about the world and its wonders.
She noticed him adding more of the Damascene pepper to his portion, stirring it into the sauce until it darkened visibly.
"Are you certain that's wise?" she asked, nodding toward his plate. "It already has considerable heat."
Dominic grinned, a flash of teeth white against his tanned skin. "I was terribly sensitive to it at first. But the more I ate, the more I loved it, until I built quite a tolerance."
"Is that a metaphor, Your Grace?" June asked, lifting her wineglass with a smile of her own.
"For what?"
"For acquiring a taste for initially overwhelming experiences."
His eyes met hers over the rim of his own glass. "Perhaps. Though some experiences require no acquired taste whatsoever. They overwhelm from the first encounter, yet one craves them immediately."
The look that accompanied these words sent heat rushing to June's cheeks that had nothing to do with Damascene pepper. She took another bite of the spiced lamb to cover her reaction, but Dominic's knowing smile suggested he hadn't missed it.
When they had finished their meal, Dominic surprised her again by efficiently clearing the dishes.
"We can leave the rest for the staff to handle in the morning," he said, offering his arm with a gallantry incongruous with their informal setting. "For now, shall we retire to somewhere more comfortable?"
June placed her hand on his offered arm, acutely aware of the solid warmth of him beneath the fine linen of his shirt. "I'm not certain the drawing room is prepared for guests. Your mother mentioned the fires hadn't been lit there today."
"Not the drawing room," Dominic replied, leading her from the kitchen. "I've had a fire lit in the small salon adjoining my study. It's where I go when I wish for privacy and comfort rather than formality."
The salon proved to be a cozy chamber, far smaller than the grand public rooms of Icemere but infinitely more inviting.
A fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing light across walls lined with books and paintings.
The furnishings were well-worn but of excellent quality—deep armchairs, a writing desk positioned to catch the morning light, and a chaise longue placed near the fire.
Dominic guided her to the chaise, settling beside her with natural ease.
The firelight cast his features into sharp relief—the strong line of his jaw, the elegant arch of his brows, the fullness of his lower lip.
June found herself studying him with an intensity that would have been embarrassing had he noticed.
But notice he did. His eyes, dark in the firelight, turned to meet hers with quiet amusement.
"Why do you gaze at me in that manner, June?" he asked, his voice dropping to a register that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
Heat rose in her cheeks, but she didn't look away. "What manner?"
"As though you wish for me to kiss you."
The directness of it startled her, but only for a moment. Something about the evening—the intimacy of sharing a meal he'd prepared with his own hands, the stories he'd told, the glimpses of the man behind the ducal mask—had emboldened her.
"I do," she said simply.
Dominic's eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained maddeningly controlled. "You do what, precisely?"
June narrowed her eyes, recognizing the game he played. He wanted her to be explicit, to voice her desires without ambiguity. "You know perfectly well what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't," he countered, though the curve of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "I'm a simple man, June. I require clear instruction."
"Simple?" she scoffed. "You are many things, Dominic Blake, but simple is not among them."
"In matters of desire, I assure you, I am utterly uncomplicated." He shifted closer on the chaise, his thigh pressing against hers through the layers of their clothing. "Tell me what you want, June."
His nearness made it difficult to think clearly, but June refused to surrender so easily. "And if I prefer to show rather than tell?"
"I'm afraid that won't do." His hand came up to brush a stray curl from her cheek, the touch feather-light yet somehow burning. "You see, I made a rule. You must explicitly invite me to kiss you."
June caught her breath at his touch, at the heat in his eyes that belied his composed demeanor. "That seems an unnecessarily strict rule."
"On the contrary." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, coming to rest just below her lower lip. "I find that clarity prevents all manner of misunderstandings."
She held his gaze, her heart beating a wild rhythm against her ribs. This was a moment of choice, of stepping deliberately toward intimacy rather than having it thrust upon them by circumstance. Unlike their hasty marriage, this would be entered into with full awareness, full intent.
"Kiss me, Dominic," she said, the words emerging with more confidence than she felt. "I want you to kiss me."
Something fierce and triumphant flashed in his eyes. "I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, and then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was nothing like their previous encounters—not the desperate, stolen moment at Stone Manor that had led to their marriage. This was deliberate, thorough, a claiming and an offering all at once.
June's hands found their way to his shoulders as his arms encircled her, drawing her against the solid wall of his chest. She tasted the exotic spices of their dinner on his lips, felt the heat of the Damascene pepper bloom between them like a living thing.
It sparked across her skin, making her gasp against his mouth.
Dominic took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss in a possessive caress that sent liquid fire racing through her veins. The spice on his lips intensified the sensation so excessively that she had to pull away, burning.
He smiled, a slow devilish one, and it made June's heart skip a beat.
"Did I not warn you about the lasting heat of Damascene pepper?" he asked, his voice rough.
June could only stare at him, her lips still burning from his kiss, her blood singing in her veins. The fire from his mouth had kindled something wild and wonderful within her.
And at that moment, June knew with absolute certainty: she would not let him die. Not when they had only just begun to discover the fire between them.