Chapter 7
“You truly believe that stowing the key between your breasts will keep me from retrieving it?” Constantine asked.
Elara blushed, feeling her body heat from head to toe as the Duke’s green eyes fixed on her bosom like a hawk’s. Then, with a quickness that startled her, those eyes flicked up to meet her own, and he gave her a wicked grin.
“Just as I thought,” his deep voice mused, steepling his fingertips. “You are nowhere near as bold as you pretend to be.”
Elara pushed past his brazen words, crossed her arms, and willed the redness from her cheeks to fade as she scowled at him.
“You know nothing about me, Your Grace,” she said bitterly. “There is no use in pretending otherwise.”
“And just as there is no point in my pretending to know you, there is no point in your pretending to know me,” Constantine’s deep voice retorted sharply. “So let us get this inquisition over with so we can be done with each other’s company.”
“Very well, where is Evander?” Elara asked, dropping all pretense.
“Dead,” Constantine replied, not flinching at her question.
“Did you kill him?”
“After what he did to my brother, I was tempted. But no.”
“What did you do with Evander? Where is he?” Elara repeated.
“Dead,” Constantine enunciated.
“I have evidence to the contrary. Evidence I found in your home.”
“And what evidence is that?” Constantine asked.
Elara gritted her teeth, unsure whether she should use that particular card yet, in this strange game she seemed to be caught up in with the Duke.
“Listen, I have nothing to do with your brother’s death or disappearance, as you claim it was.
However, I know you had something to do with the fire that was started the night you came to my room,” the Duke stated, taking advantage of her silence.
“So you had better apologize for it and stop pestering me if you want me to let this go.”
She flicked her gaze back up to his, nearly flinching at the hardness she found in his vivid green eyes.
“The fire... it was an accident,” she whispered.
The Duke scoffed. “You expect me to believe that, yet you will not believe me when I insist I know nothing about Evander’s death? If we cannot trust each other, why are we even talking?”
“I do not need your trust; I need the truth!” Elara said, taking a step toward him.
“The truth?” the Duke repeated, taking a step toward her. “The truth is what I have presented both times we have spoken, yet you will not accept it. But I am warning you, do not make me lose my patience with you, or else...”
“Or what?” Elara asked, feeling the heat in her flesh intensify as they drew closer.
“An innocent lady like yourself should not ask questions like those.”
“I might be innocent, but I know what men like you are like. I know well enough that you are shameless and immoral to take advantage of women and leave them to ruin. I know you hide babies in your room. Babies, no doubt, born out of wedlock. If you can hide such a secret, who knows what other secrets you have?”
Rage sparked in the Duke’s eyes, sending jolts of yellow through his green irises in a way that Elara found as hauntingly beautiful as it was disturbing.
His hand suddenly shot out, quicker than her eyes could register, and Elara gasped as she felt the strength trembling in his fingers, so delicately holding her chin that she could not look away from him.
“Listen to me, little one,” his deep voice warned as heat scorched through Elara’s veins.
“I have not demanded an apology from you for breaking into my home. I have not demanded one for rifling through my things. I have not even demanded one for the damage you are trying to inflict on my reputation by accusing me of having a hand in your brother’s death. ”
“However, speaking of that baby is something I will not tolerate from you. You breathe one word of his existence to anyone, and I will make your life a living nightmare. He is innocent, and I will not allow him to fall victim to your crazed vendetta against me. Am I understood?”
Elara did not speak. Did not breathe. She simply looked into his eyes, captivated by the fierce protection glittering there.
“What is the matter?” the Duke goaded, smirking devilishly as his grip on her chin tightened. “Did I finally scare some sense into you?”
Elara broke from his eyes and wrenched her chin from his grasp.
“You do not scare me,” she insisted, taking a step back. “I am just surprised that someone like you could care so much about someone other than yourself.”
“Again, I must insist that you do not speak as if you know me,” the Duke warned. “You know nothing about me, just like you know nothing about who Evander truly was.”
Offense flared through Elara’s mind as she opened her mouth to argue, but Constantine cut her off.
“No,” he snarled, holding a finger up to her face. “It is my turn to speak. You miss your brother, and I can empathize with that, but I miss my brother as well, and he is in exile for the rest of his life because of what Evander did to him! Did you know that?”
Elara’s mind whirled with the new information. She had always seen Evander as her hero. Was it possible that she had been wrong?
“I...” she breathed, taking in the pain and anger in Constantine’s eyes. “No, I did not know that. But it does not make sense. Evander would never... He was... is a good person.”
Constantine tsked his tongue as he looked away from her and shook his head.
“Perhaps to you, Lady Elara. I assure you, though, he was not as kind to others,” he stated, his tone just as bitter as before. “It is no coincidence that so many people were glad to see him dead.”
Elara pressed her lips together, as if trying to find a way to keep the conversation going. She had come at him hard and aggressively, but perhaps now, a little sweetness might be useful.
“I am... sorry that this happened to your brother. But regarding the baby, you need not worry. I will not mention his existence to anyone. Despite what you think, I do not wish to cause harm, but simply to discover the truth of what has happened to my brother. I did not know that your brother was exiled, but now I understand that you must know how I feel.”
Something passed through his hardened eyes. A softness. An understanding, perhaps, that yes, he knew exactly what it felt like. Then it was gone. Wanting to chase that clue, Elara chose that moment to show him the note she had found in his home.
“Look here,” she commanded, pulling the folded note from inside her glove. “This is a note I found in your home. It is dated a month after Evander’s presumed death, yet it states that whoever received this note was going to meet him!”
The Duke snatched the note from her hands.
His eyes roamed angrily over the words on the page, his expression growing more intense with each second.
Elara watched him closely as he read; watched his sculpted jaw tighten, watched his surprisingly plump lips press shut as more sparks flew from his green eyes.
It truly is a shame he is so handsome, Elara mused.
Startled by her own thoughts, Elara shifted away from him at once, wondering what on earth was coming over her.
She had had similar thoughts while they had danced as well.
He was quite good, for someone who did not even attend his own parties, and she could not deny that his hands had felt particularly delightful as they smoothed over her waist to lift her into one specific spin of the dance.
“I have never seen this letter in my life,” the Duke said, his gruff voice yanking her from her thoughts.
She dragged her gaze up to his, her anger toward him instantly renewed by his denial.
“What room did you find this in?” he demanded, waving the letter before her. “How do I know you actually found it in my home? It is not addressed to me or to anyone who lives there.”
“So you deny it again?” Elara asked. She let out a bitter scoff, snatched the note from his hands, and folded it back up.
“I am denying that I had any knowledge of it,” the Duke agreed. “For all I know, you could have forged it.”
“And you think I would do all that to frame you?” Elara asked.
“Well, you are certainly determined to place the blame on me despite my assurances that I had nothing to do with Evander’s death,” he quickly retorted.
“His disappearance!” Elara snapped. Feeling as if something had just broken inside her, Elara blinked back tears as she raised her fists and pounded them into his chest. “He is not dead. I know he is not!”
“Lady Elara, stop,” he warned, not even flinching as her much smaller hands rained blows on his broad chest.
“No! I hate you!” she sobbed, ignoring his command. “Why cannot you just tell me the truth? Why cannot you just admit it!”
What happened next was so swift that Elara had no time to prepare.
The Duke’s hands closed around her wrists like iron, and in one single, fluid motion, he drove her back against the wall and caged her there, both her wrists pinned above her head in one of his large hands.
Elara gasped at the impact, her breath leaving her in a rush as the full, overwhelming breadth of him pressed against her, leaving no space between them whatsoever.
“I told you,” he practically growled, his lips only centimeters away from hers. “I am not lying.”
She squirmed against him, twisting her wrists in his grip and pressing her body against the immovable wall of his chest. It was entirely useless.
He did not budge an inch. If anything, he pressed closer, and the more she fought, the more acutely aware she became of every point where their bodies met.
“Stop,” he growled, low and warning.
“Let me go!” she insisted, still writhing.