5
Camilla White
A fter putting on my sleeping gown, I turn off the bedroom lights and sit on my bed, sighing.
Today was hard with the duke finally moving in. It’s weird knowing I am no longer the only person living in this house full-time.
Vincent Hawthorne is far from the boy I met all those years ago. Tall and sturdy, oozing class and power through his expensive suits and his eloquent manners. The Duke of Hawthorne is highly respected and feared in the kingdom. The young and soft features hardened into those of a cold, detached yet imposing man. Someone who is always highly aware of his surroundings.
Vincent Hawthorne is like a black hole, an all-consuming force that draws you in. You know it’s dangerous and once you’re engulfed, you’re done. There’s no coming out, and yet…you still let yourself go because there’s no fighting it.
It was difficult to keep my composure when I saw him. From the self-assured steps into the manor to the way all of him exuded assertiveness and confidence. Was it the crisp suit in which he showed up in? Was it the way it hugged his rugged body?
It did make me wonder what’s underneath…
“Ah, Camilla,” I mutter to myself, trying to get rid of the sinful vision of a half-naked duke in front of me.
Maybe it wa s the way he looked right at me, ignoring a crowd of overly well-dressed noblewomen.
Those piercing eyes…
It felt like he was seeing right through me. They lit a trail of fire from my face, letting it spread down, towards the rest of my body, bringing it to life like no one else has ever before.
For the first time in my life, I felt…seen. Acknowledged as something more than just a housekeeper.
The way his hot breath fanned over my skin by that lift, prickling it was only heightened by the whisper of the nickname he had for me from when we were kids. To say it didn’t create butterflies in my stomach is a lie.
The thoughts tug at my heart, making me frown at myself in the dimly lit bedroom. I barely know this man and yet I can’t seem to get him out of my head. Not for one goddamn minute. Not since that memorial.
Woof, woof .
I turn to the side and squint my eyes to make out Primrose’s silhouette in the corner of the room.
Woof, woof.
I almost forgot my baby girl needs to be let out.
Pressing the switch to turn on the light, I see her right away, rushing to me. With a quick bend down, I scoop her into my arm and rush outside to the orchard, passing through the kitchen.
Getting used to Primrose was hard at first. Mrs Elizabeth was already somewhat debilitated, and I saw the dog as another chore. But she was adamant, claiming she would brighten up our days.
And that she did. She’s now my only living connection to the only person I had left.
But Primrose is still young, not even a full year old, and enduring long periods without going out to pee is still a challenge. At least she is so intelligent and learned from an early age to ask to go outside.
Such a clever girl.
Let’s just hope I can keep her a secret from the duke for a little longer. At least until I can prove to him that she can live here without disturbing anyone else.
May even be my head playing tricks, but there’s this inherent fear of having to give her away. I mean, I couldn’t.
I’d probably leave with her.
“Come on, girl. After all of those quick pees you had to do, you deserve your little freedom,” I whisper.
After so much work with the duke moving in, her leisure outside today was quite limited. Especially so the duke or his mother wouldn’t see her. But now, I can pay my girl some well-deserved attention.
In a matter of ten minutes, Primrose is ready from peeing, pooping, and sniffing around. That’s when she starts to tease me, entering into our routine of late-night fun. We play for a good while, with her chasing the sticks I throw or dodging my overbearing pets.
The fun is cut short when, in the midst of all of the excitement, she starts to bark uncontrollably.
“Shush, girl,” I hiss, picking her up. “We can’t let the duke hear you.”
She calms down as soon as she’s in my arms, turning her belly up for some more love.
“You silly girl,” I coo as I open the kitchen door with her tucked on my side. “How many more times will you wake me up in the middle of the night? You need to work on that bladder, or I’ll become a zombie.”
The unmistakable sound of a throat being cleared startles me. I gasp the moment my eyes meet the dark gaze of the duke, and the surprise of the moment makes me stumble backwards. With my foot getting caught in something, I lose balance, and my body propels backwards.
My only thought is to hold Primrose close to my chest as she yelps in terror. I close my eyes as I prepare for impact, but it never comes. Instead, strong and warm hands grasp my waist, sending goosebumps all over. Even with my eyes shut tightly, it feels like blinding white sparks are flying around us.
It’s only when a ragged breath hits my face that I slowly open my eyes.
His piercing brown gaze is locked on mine and way closer than I thought. Heat creeps up my body in reaction to the proximity, but none of us makes a move. Frozen in place and lost in each other. From this close, I can see the golden specks that lighten up his irises, and they’re beautiful.
Keep your composure, Camilla.
In a weak attempt to do so, I try to take a deep breath, only for it to come out as ragged as his was. When his eyes make visual contact with my lips, his pupils dilate, robbing the irises of their space and darkening his gaze. From beautiful to dark and intense in just one second. Slowly, his head starts to lower, cutting in on the little distance there is between us.
This is not proper, and out of the both of us—and as a woman and employee—I should be the one with enough self-control. My job could be at stake. Except, I don’t have the self-control .
For the first time in my life, rationality is not taking the best of me. His presence clouds my judgement and only lets me run with nothing but my instincts and desires. And right now, I want him here, with his forehead touching mine and his lips just a ghost of touching my own.
Intoxicating.
Then, a small cry breaks us out of our daze. As we both look down at the same time, we see an overly eager Primrose wagging her tail and struggling to free herself from my hold. She manages to press her front paws on my arm, propelling her body up to get a whiff of the duke.
My eyes widen when I notice her inching even closer, and I try to divert her, but it’s too late. Her sloppy and humid tongue rolls out, licking the duke’s cheek, leaving a path of drool behind.
I gasp in horror and jump out of his hold. At the same time, the duke’s breath hitches, and his face morphs into an expression of shock.
“Your Grace, I am so sorry,” I apologise frantically. “She’s still a baby. She was the duchess’ dog, and she gets overly excited when she meets new people. I am sorry. I promise I’ll teach her better.”
Then, the unexpected happens.
The duke lets out this deep and strong laughter and doubles over his stomach.
I’m rooted to the spot, in shock, watching as his amusement over the situation fills the silence around us. This is not the reaction I was expecting from him. I anticipated annoyance, even anger or some kind of dismissive behaviour, but instead, he’s laughing.
Why the hell is he laughing?
“Of course, you had to have a cute dog,” he wheezes between laughter.
“I’m sorry. She just loves to give kisses.” I blush, embarrassed when he finally looks back at me with a side smile, popping out a dimple on his left cheek. “I will make sure she doesn’t bother you, sir, I’ll keep her outside and in my room only.”
“It’s okay,” he tells me. “Is she yours now?”
“Yes,” I mumble, the nostalgia hitting me from the memory of holding her with me the whole night after Mrs Elizabeth passed away.
“She’s cute. What breed is it?”
“A cocker spaniel, Your Grace.”
“I see…Looks like she likes cuddles, though,” he comments, petting her a little.
Her lashes move as her eyes slowly start to droop. She’s getting sleepy.
“She does,” I tell him excitedly. “But on top of that, she is so smart. I barely had to teach her that the walks are for necessities. She no longer gets anything dirty and asks to be taken outside! And the cuddles are the best part,” I finish with a shy smile and blush on my cheeks.
Sensing his eyes still on me, I bring my attention back to him with a gulp. This man’s eyes are too intense, too powerful for me not to look away.
“Will I have to get rid of her?” I dare ask after an uncomfortable silence.
Looking back up from a sleepy Primrose already resting her head on my arm, I notice a frown forming on his handsome face.
“Why would you have to get rid of her?”
My mouth falls agape at his confusion. “I thought Your Grace wouldn’t…” I stop myself, searching for words. “Wouldn’t want her around.”
“I don’t mind, as long as she doesn’t destroy anything that is mine.” He shrugs.
“Are you sure, Y-your Grace?” I can’t help but stutter.
“Yes, Camilla ,” he concludes, but I can still note a husky tone in his voice.
“Thank you, Your Grace.” I bow my head, bringing Primrose even closer to me and kissing her head softly.
She squirms but doesn’t wake up, and I can’t help the content smile that widens on my face. After a few cuddles and kisses, I realise I forgot I had company. The duke has his hand tucked in the pockets of a pair of grey sweatpants, and I gulp upon the sinful view.
I would never think a duke would wear sweatpants.
My eyes rake his body, from the bottom to the top, lingering on his shirtless torso, a marvellous sight that I’ve been purposely ignoring until now. When our eyes meet once again, something in my chest flutters. It is always intense and piercing, but this time, they’re conveying something more.
Something I can’t quite place, but that I am sure I am no stranger to. It’s soft and rooted deep inside of us, searching for space to grow. Before I can explore it some more, the duke clears his throat, breaking the moment and making me blush furiously.
“It’s late,” he comments. “We probably should go to bed.”
His body pushes itself from its current position, leaning against the island counter, and turning towards the long hall that connects the kitchen to the entrance hall and the big staircase.
I do the same and turn in the direction of the staff's corridor, where my bedroom is located. Just before we both leave the kitchen, I say, “Good night, Your Grace.”
My voice comes out shaky, showing just how much he affects me. The sound of his footsteps halts, making me inhale sharply, but he doesn’t speak. At least, not until I cross the corridor and hear a barely audible mumble, “ Goodnight, Little Milla .”