Chapter 13 #3
“You think I would hurt them on purpose?” Charity said, “And how are you so sure that you are doing the right thing for them? You are not the person who gets to decide what is said and what is hidden.”
“Neither are you, so stop behaving like you are the only person allowed to decide.”
“Excuse me?” Charity’s eyes widened.
“You kept everything from them,” Duncan said. “You left them guessing, and it scared them. That’s why they ran. Then you acted shocked and hurt, as it came out of nowhere. But you’re the one who decided how things work between you three. You set the rules without asking them what they needed.”
Charity felt her cheeks burn. She had not expected to be called out like this.
“I was trying to protect them.”
“You were trying to handle it all by yourself,” Duncan said, “trying to be the only thing standing between them and the world, but you’re not made of stone, and people can only take so much.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m weak,” Charity clenched her fists. She was shaking now.
“You’re not,” Duncan said, and when she froze, expecting another insult, he went on in the same low voice, “You’re stubborn and proud, and you’d rather suffer in silence than ask for help. I can see that clearly.”
Charity stared at him, and it was strange how quickly her anger shifted into something else, since the truth of it was humiliating and also relieving in a way she did not want to admit.
She took a step forward without thinking, not realizing how close she was until she could feel the heat of him in front of her.
Duncan stopped moving too, and for a second neither of them spoke, and the silence was filled by the sound of their breathing next to each other.
“You don’t get to call me ungrateful,” she said finally, “You do not know what I have had to swallow to keep my sisters safe, and you do not know what it costs me to trust anyone at all. The last thing I want is for you to make me feel trapped.”
Duncan’s eyes flicked over her face, and his voice dropped even lower.
“Trapped?” Duncan raised an eyebrow. “Would you rather be trapped with your uncle?”
“I did not imply that.” Charity’s stomach dropped. “Do not say that, I am not comparing you to him.”
In earnest, the two could not be more opposite, and she did not wish to give him the impression that the two were in the same league in her mind.
“You would rather be trapped by yourself,” he corrected, bluntly.
Charity drew in a breath, and her hand went to her necklace without her thinking, her fingers fidgeting at the chain before rubbing it once. Duncan’s gaze dropped to the motion.
Charity noticed it at once, and she froze.
Ah. It felt strangely intimate, even though he had not even once touched her.
It occurred to her then that a small part of her wanted him to reach out and touch her.
How odd. She had never had this feeling before, and she bit down on her lip with such force that she was sure that she almost broke skin.
Feeling herself get dizzy, she forced her hand to stop, but it was too late, since his eyes stayed there for a second, then lifted back to her face in a way that made her breath catch, and his gaze moved to her lips.
And then another realization dawned on her.
She wanted him to kiss her, and she did not know when that had become possible in her mind. Her own body was betraying her.
Her fingers went back to the necklace again, as if the chain could anchor her.
Duncan saw the motion again, and his expression changed into one of restraint. But it drove her nearly crazy.
Did he want to kiss me? And then decide against it? Surely, it was not something that she ought to be thinking of in the first place, but there was something just so… unexplainable about their connection that she could not control these thoughts.
For one second, he did not move, but Charity could anticipate the space between them narrowing anyway. She wanted to reach out and keep him close to her.
But he stepped back abruptly, as if he had forced himself to.
“Leave,” Duncan said.
“What?” Charity blinked, stunned.
“Leave,” he repeated, turning his gaze away from her as if he could not look at her any longer.
Charity’s cheeks burned with anger and humiliation.
“Are you sending me away?” she said, flustered. “Have I said something wrong?”
Duncan’s gaze was hard when it returned to her face, devoid of the tenderness that he had been showing her previously.
Charity stared at him for a long moment, wanting to say something tender. But she did not trust herself to speak without breaking.
So instead, she lifted her chin, let her hand drop from her necklace, and turned toward the door.
Behind her, Duncan spoke again.
“Charity.”
She stopped with her hand on the handle, and she waited, since part of her wanted him to take it back and apologize. But the apology did not arrive, and she couldn’t look back now.
“I will speak to you later, Your Grace.”
She opened the door and left, closing it behind her with controlled care, and she walked down the corridor with her heart still racing.
She had realized she wanted something she had no business wanting.