Chapter 6
“Iwould have been forced to kill him,” Dorian explained himself, a tad coarser than he’d liked. “But I need him alive for now.”
“Like you need me.”
He grasped her chin, the grip of his forefinger and thumb was firmer than he had intended. “I need you free and alive.”
Dorian did not mistake the flicker in her eyes the moment their skin met, those pillowy lips of hers parting with each breath, or the way her bosom had risen and fallen. She might not have recognized the welcoming signs of her own body, but he certainly did.
Satisfaction expanded his chest; he’d known the feral attraction between them was mutual.
“From now on, you will bloody well stay here where you’re safe.” For good measure, he dropped his voice to his powerful ducal tones, “That is final.”
“You cannot imprison me here.” The mutinous angle of her chin looked familiar.
“Sweetheart, I will latch you to the bedhead with a rope if I must,” Dorian threatened.
Evelina swallowed. “I would rather if you did not do that.”
“Then behave.” He chucked her beneath the chin—Christ, her skin was even softer than he’d imagined—and she gasped in indignation. “Brazen little chit,” he murmured.
“Keep your paws off me.” She swatted his hand away.
“Are you sure?” He asked. “With the way your body reacted to me, I think you want more of my paws on you.”
“No, I do not.”
Arching over her, he pressed his hand to the headboard and leaned in—she sunk to the pillows, eyes wide, her hands clenching the sheets at her sides.
“You want me, and you know it,” he ground out.
Her little tongue darted out, wetting her lips. Lust and anger mixed, driving her breath out in harsh rushes. “No, I do not.”
They both heard the weak fragility in her words. His eyes latched onto her and the incremental increase of her pupils made him smirk. “You don’t even know what you want, do you?”
He dropped his mouth and brushed his lips over hers.
Her responding gasp had him pushing forward, only to flicker his tongue over the seam of her lips and pull away. She was utterly discombobulated.
“That is what I thought,” he said, straightening. Brushing his fingers over her cheek, he murmured, “Do not leave this house, Evelina. Whatever you need, send a footman for it.”
“I still have not seen a single one,” she replied—rather breathlessly.
At the doorway, he craned his head over his shoulder. “I’ll introduce you to one.”
“Dorian—Your Grace,” she corrected hastily. “Earlier, I noticed something—the tips of my uncle and aunt’s former home. Years ago, there was a boy named Ash near here, or close to here, I assume. Did you buy the land from him?”
He turned; brows lowered. “When I came across this land, there was a ramshackle hut here and no one was living in it. The Crown decided the land was free for the taking and I purchased it. Who is this Ash?”
Ellie’s eyes strayed to the window. “He was a boy I loved when I was younger. My uncle found us one day, and the next day, Ash was gone. I—I never saw him again.”
Leaning on the wall, Dorian asked, “Does this Ash have a last name?”
She pinked, “I don’t know. He was mute, you see, and he never told me his name. I—I only called him that because his hair was the tone of bleached wheat.” She let out a breath. “I suppose my uncle made sure he was sent away.”
His lips ticked down. “Calf love does not last, Evelina.”
Pressing her hand to her chest, she rubbed a sore spot. Her eyes flickered up. “That is the thing… I don’t think it ever left.”
He reached around to rub the tense lines in the back of his neck. “I do not know what to tell you.”
Levelling an inquisitive gaze to him, she asked, “You have never fallen in love with a young girl?”
“Oh yes,” he drawled sarcastically. “While living in the stews and running with a gang. And while my survival depended upon stealth, it made more sense to be distracted by a girl.”
“You were in a gang?” she parroted. “In the stews?”
Looking at the elegant, powerful man before her, she found the notion unbelievable. “Is that why you walk so soundlessly?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I grew up on the streets of Covent Garden, St. Giles and Whitechapel. That was after I’d swept chimneys for years, and before you ask, the leader of the gang was Carrington.
Back then, he only went by Sterling. I survived by any means possible.
All of that is far behind me. But I thought it was best that you should know. ”
She shook her head. “There is still a disconnect between you being a Duke inherit and you ending up in the street.”
“That is for another time,” he said. “Now, do me a favor and stay away from the windows.”
Dorian left the room and took the air with him; the faint scent of his cologne, a subtle mix of citrus and spice lingered after his presence.
Pressing her fingertips to her lips, she sucked in a breath; she could almost feel the firm pressure of his mouth on hers, the flicker of his wet tongue on her bottom lip.
Her insides quivered like sweet trifle.
No one had ever looked at her with this level of raw intensity. In general, she was not allowed to be around men. She observed them at a distance across the ballroom; those men were the portrait of manners, their words chosen carefully for the delicate ears of a lady.
Dorian was another breed of gentleman. His eyes, when trained on her, had the vibrancy of a wolf cornering a quivering deer. All instincts screamed at her to run, and yet her limbs remained frozen.
And his mouth, goodness, his soft, strong mouth was upon hers. It had only been a caress, yet she could barely think. What would have happened if he’d truly kissed her?
Disoriented, she tried to think about anything else but the last ten minutes... yet the sinful… exciting sensations still unfurled within her.
I wonder what he will say when I tell him he took my first kiss...
Her thoughts and worries about how they would go from there ran in rounds until they tired her out and into a slumber. A stiff wrap of knuckles on her door woke her and Dorian’s voice came through the door. “It’s time for you to eat.”
She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, then slipped from the bed, and after a quick trip to the washroom where she splashed cold water on her face and dried, she left to find Dorian.
She paced to the front room only to find a spread of cold cuts and mince pies ready for her to eat. She filled a plate and sat down to feast, but then, Dorian strode into the room, visibly struggling to fasten his right cufflink with his injured left arm.
Silently, she left her seat and commandeered his arm, fixing the cufflink for him. She kept her eyes secured on her task as his breath skittered over her cheek; heat pulsed from his body and made her belly quiver.
“There,” she fastened the link and straightened his sleeve before stepping back.
His fitted grey jacket and trousers were exquisitely tailored, molding to his long, virile lines. Above the dusky plum waistcoat, his cravat held a perfect knot.
She couldn’t look away from his gaze, the shards of golden ice. A magnetic force hummed in the sliver of space between them. Her heart thumped a tattoo under her breastbone.
“Don’t strain your arm,” she pulled away.
Ellie took half a step away when Dorian’s hand flung out, grabbed her arm and spun her back to him. “What—"
His mouth crashed upon hers. The force of his unexpected kiss had her rocking on her heels, and his kiss grew even more seductively demanding when his tongue swept against her bottom lip.
Instinctively, she opened for him and his tongue swept boldly in.
His kiss tasted her as if she was his, the unapologetic possession of his touch sent a light burst of awareness through her.
Gripping his upper arms for stability, she pressed herself on his firm body and did her best to match his furor.
Dorian’s right hand swept up to cup her nape, his head angled to the left as he took her mouth.
Heavens, the man could kiss.
He kissed her as if it would never end, and that there was nothing he wanted more than just to have his mouth on hers. Ellie’s instinctive fervor matched his and heat sizzled up her spine as his tongue thrust hot, and bold, mimicking another sensual act.
He pulled away to catch a breath before his lips met hers again, slowly this time to explore her mouth, suckling on her lips before he drew away. His kiss rendered her light-headed and Dorian’s gaze was unfathomable as he swept a thumb over her wet bottom lip.
She swallowed. “W-what was that for?”
His lips flattened for a moment, but as he went to answer, a knock came at the door behind them, and Dorian turned to answer it instead. A young man in a dark livery stepped in to bow.
“Your Grace,” he said.
“Bennet,” Dorian turned to Ellie. “Miss Frampton, this is now your footman, Jonathan Bennet. He is stationed just outside, so if you need something, call on him.”
Her gaze shifted from Dorian to Bennet. Is he going to answer my question?
“I’m pleased to meet you, Bennet,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you in his hands.” Tugging his cloak on, Dorian strode through the door without so much as a glance back.
Her shoulders wilted, and she looked at Bennet. “Do you want something to drink?”
Dorian paused while pouring his Spanish wine as Drake stepped into his office. “What in gods name are you wearing?”
“A waistcoat,” Drake cocked a brow. “Do you need spectacles?”
“I know it’s a waistcoat, but what is on it?” Dorian asked while trying to decipher the dizzying array of green and blue embroidery on the man’s clothing. “Are those butterflies or flowers?”
“They’re fish,” Drake sighed. “Japanese koi fish.”
“Second question,” Dorian turned to his desk. “When did you turn into a dandy?”
“I aim to be unpredictable,” Drake laughed. “You, however, are an unrelenting parade of dark blue, brown, and black. A splash of color would do you a world of good.”