Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
One second, she was walking away. The next he had stepped directly into her path.
Her breath caught as she halted abruptly.
The balcony suddenly felt much smaller. Much more private.
The awareness of him seemed to fill every corner of the space.
Seraphine looked up and found him locked onto her.
She could smell the brandy on him and realized perhaps he had too much.
“That's all? he asked, folding his arms loosely across his chest as he blocked her path.
Seraphine lifted an eyebrow at him. “What?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as though genuinely confused.
His eyes narrowed with amusement. The expression made him look far too pleased with himself. She immediately distrusted it.
“Oh, now you dismiss me so easily, sweetheart?” Damien asked. The low note in his voice sent a strange warmth through her stomach.
Seraphine hated that she noticed such things. She hated it even more because he seemed aware of the effect. His smile deepened slightly. The man was insufferable.
“I hardly dismissed you,” Seraphine replied, lifting her chin as she met his gaze.
Damien gave a quiet huff of amusement. “You thanked me,” he said, “And now you're leaving.” He stepped closer.
“That is generally how conversations end,” she replied dryly. His mouth twitched. The hint of amusement only made him more irritating. Somehow, she suspected he enjoyed provoking her. Entirely too much.
“You seemed much more eager for my company the other night. In fact, I believed you wanted to be around me so much, you asked me to marry you,” Damien remarked, arching a brow as he watched her reaction.
Heat climbed her neck immediately.
Good heavens. The man truly has no tact.
Seraphine stared at him in disbelief. He looked entirely unrepentant. Naturally.
Seraphine rolled her eyes. The memory was embarrassing enough without his constant reminders. Yet he appeared determined never to let her forget it.
“I asked for a favor,” Seraphine corrected, narrowing her eyes at him. “You refused,” she said, fixing him with a pointed look. The reminder wiped the amusement from his face almost instantly.
Damien stepped closer again, the movement unhurried and deliberate. He did not touch her.
Do I want him to?
The warmth of his presence seemed to reach her all the same. It was close enough to be distracting and far too close for comfort. Her pulse betrayed her by quickening at once. Seraphine disliked that reaction immensely.
“I needed your help,” she said quietly, “Nothing more than that.”
Something changed in his eyes at those words. She could not identify it, but she felt it all the same.
“Nothing more?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he studied her face. His voice became thick with desire.
“No,” she whispered. His gaze lingered upon her for an uncomfortable moment. The silence stretched between them.
“You blush,” he said.
“I do not,” Seraphine replied, refusing to give him the satisfaction, even though she could feel the heat warming her cheeks.
She glared at him with all the severity she could muster. He merely smirked in response. The insufferable man seemed immune to intimidation. Without either of them consciously intending it, the distance between them vanished further. Perhaps he had moved closer. Perhaps she had failed to retreat.
Either way, extraordinarily little space remained between them now. His broad shoulders blocked the doorway behind him.
“You are drunk, please move,” she said, lifting her chin as she met his gaze.
“And if I do not?” Damien replied calmly, making no effort whatsoever to comply.
“Damien…” she whispered, exasperation creeping into her voice. Hearing his name on her lips seemed to affect him. His eyes darkened slightly. Something in her stomach tightened.
“When you say my name…” he said.
She said nothing. She could not muster the words.
“Seraphine…” he continued, speaking her name with softness. The way he said it felt unfair.
Entirely unfair. It sounds far too intimate for a simple exchange.
She wished he would stop doing that. Unfortunately, she rather suspected he knew exactly what effect it had.
“You're impossible,” she informed him, folding her arms.
“So I've been told,” Damien replied. “Frequently.”
We are standing too closely. What if someone sees us?
She attempted to step around him and escape the conversation. Damien shifted immediately, blocking her path once more.
“Your Grace, please…” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
“Please what, sweetheart?” he replied, entirely too pleased with himself. The endearment should have irritated her. Instead, it did something much worse.
Her heart skipped in a way she found deeply inconvenient. Annoying did not begin to describe it. Very annoying was perhaps closer to the truth. She wished her body would behave sensibly for once. Unfortunately, it appeared determined to betray her. Damien seemed to notice every reaction.
“You… You are standing in my way,” she pointed out, gesturing toward the doorway behind him. “I wish to leave,” she said firmly.
“Do you? Because I do not think you do. Your lips… they tremble. They ache to be kissed,” he said. His eyes locked on her lips.
She gasped. He studied her face far too closely. The air seemed charged. The sounds of the ballroom faded into distant background noise. All she could see was him standing before her. The sharp line of his jaw drew her attention despite herself. His green eyes remained fixed upon her.
The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw only made matters worse. Her pulse fluttered again beneath his gaze. She hated that reaction. She hated how aware she was of him. She hated how difficult it had become to look away.
I hate that none of those statements are entirely true.
“Please,” she whispered again, lifting her chin as she looked up at him. Her fingers curled against her skirts in an effort to steady herself. The command should have sounded firm, yet it emerged far softer than she intended.
Damien remained exactly where he was, watching her with indefatigable patience. Then he leaned closer and pushed a curl behind her ear.
Her breath caught as awareness swept through her.
Every instinct told her to step back, yet she remained rooted to the spot.
The warmth radiating from him seemed to surround her completely.
Determined to regain some measure of control, she lifted a hand toward his chest. She meant to push him away and reclaim her space.
Instead, the moment her palm met him, she simply left it there.
Why? Pull your hand away, you foolish girl.
A soft groan escaped his mouth.
The sound startled her more than she cared to admit. Even through the layers of his coat, she could feel his steady strength. More alarming still was the powerful beat of his heart beneath her palm.
Damien froze instantly, and all traces of teasing vanished from his face. Neither of them moved as the silence stretched between them. For one suspended moment, the entire world seemed to disappear around them.
Then Damien lifted his hand slowly, as though any sudden movement might shatter the moment.
His fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, sending heat rushing through her.
She could only stare at him as his thumb settled gently along her jaw.
The touch was impossibly tender from a man who was rarely gentle with anyone.
His gaze searched hers with an intensity that made her pulse stumble.
“Seraphine,” he murmured, his voice rough as he cupped her face.
The way he said her name sounded almost like surrender. Before she could think of a response, he closed the remaining distance between them. His mouth captured hers in a kiss that was neither tentative nor uncertain.
It was certain and passionate. The force of it stole every coherent thought from her mind. Her fingers tightened instinctively against the front of his coat as the world seemed to tilt beneath her feet.
For one impossible moment, she forgot everything.
She forgot William and the deadline hanging over her future.
She forgot Society and every expectation that governed her life.
She forgot the ballroom only a few rooms away and the people waiting inside it.
There was only Damien and the warmth of his kiss.
The heat tore through her. A wave of bliss. She found herself kissing him back with a reckless abandon.
Why does this feel so good? It’s very wrong, but so good.
Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away.
The loss hit her immediately, leaving her breathless and disoriented. Damien's chest rose and fell as though he was fighting for control. His eyes remained fixed on hers, dark with emotions she could not fully decipher.
Seraphine stared at him, her heart aching with a truth she had tried desperately to ignore. This was the man she had asked to marry her. This was also the man who had refused. Slowly and painfully, she straightened her shoulders and gathered the remnants of her composure.
Remember who you are. Remember what you need. Not some rogue that refuses marriage.
Her voice was steady when she finally spoke, though it cost her dearly to maintain it.
“If you have no intention of marrying me…then leave me be,” she said quietly, lifting her gaze to meet his.
Damien remained silent, his expression unreadable. A terrible feeling settled heavily in her stomach. She already knew the answer before he gave it. Still, she forced herself to continue.
“This cannot happen again,” she said, drawing in a careful breath as she spoke.
Damien's jaw tightened visibly at her words. He looked away for the briefest moment before returning his gaze to hers. Yet he offered nothing in response. No promise, no argument, and no denial. Just silence.
And somehow that silence hurt more than any rejection could have.
It told her everything she needed to know without a single word being spoken.
Seraphine swallowed against the ache rising in her throat.
There was no point prolonging the conversation any further.
She had her answer, whether she wanted it or not.
All that remained was to leave with her dignity intact.
She offered him a small, graceful nod, refusing to let her disappointment show.
“Goodnight, Your Grace,” she said, dipping her head politely before straightening once more.
His expression flickered for a brief moment at her formal address. She detected regret perhaps, or longing, or indifference. She could not bear to examine it closely enough to find out. Gathering what remained of her composure, she stepped past him.
And he let me… he let me go.
She walked back toward the ballroom with measured, elegant steps.
She kept her head high and her expression perfectly composed.
No one who saw her would suspect the turmoil raging beneath the surface.
She did not look back as she crossed the threshold.
She refused to give herself that indulgence. And Damien did not stop her.
I shall never speak to him again. How can I?