9
Camilla White
A tragedy almost happened last night, and I am glad he didn’t try to follow me after that almost kiss.
Without any courage to face him, I’ve been keeping myself busy with all of the big and small tasks I can find.
Checking cleanings on the ground floor, dividing mail and handing out the ones to be given to the duke, as well as making sure the vineyards and the stable workers are on time…I’ve done it all, and now, I am checking with the cook what’s to be made for lunch.
I am not usually this hands-on because people have been working here for years and they know what to do, but today, I’ve been using every excuse possible in the book to avoid the manor and stay away from the duke’s chambers and office.
I just hope it’ll work for the next few days.
There’s no way I'll be able to face him after what transpired yesterday.
What even came over me?
I’m not like that! And yet, every time he’s around, it’s like this new side of me awakens and takes over. My body acts way before my brain registers what’s happening.
If Primrose hadn’t barked, reminding me of my responsibilities, I probably would have let him kiss me.
Or worse, I would have kissed him.
I need to focus on my job and keep my distance. Maybe I should start looking for an internship in the area I studied for instead of holding onto this house as if I were part of it.
By staying here, the inevitable will happen, and that will only bring the both of us misery. We may live in the same house, but we’re worlds apart.
New job it is!
“Camilla?” one of the maids’ voices snaps me out of my trance.
“Yes, Louise?”
“The duke asked for you to meet him in his office.”
“Oh…”
No. I can’t face him.
“As soon as I get this done, I’ll head up,” I lie. “Thank you.”
“Ahm,” she hesitates, looking around us for a moment before focusing back on me. “He said ‘now’ with this terrifying face and vexed voice. I’d go right away if I were you. He seems angry with something.”
“Of course,” I sigh. “Thank you for letting me know Louise.”
Looking at her retreating figure does nothing to appease my frantic heart. That I was avoiding him was pretty obvious. I know it, and apparently, the duke does, too.
Why must he be so adamant to not just...let me be?
Regardless of my wishes, Vincent Hawthorne is the boss, and I shall do as he wishes. So, what I was doing is left halfway through, as I make my way through the ground floor towards the staircase onto the noble floor.
The office is on the east wing, quite secluded from the hustle of the staff. There, I knock lightly on the wooden door.
“Come in.”
“Your Grace,” I greet him when I reach the front of his desk.
“Camilla.” His eyes lock with mine, and I swear my knees buckle at the intensity of his staring and voice. “There’s mail for you.”
“Mail?” I frown. “There was no mail for me this morning. I didn’t—”
“Not that kind of mail. There was a letter from my aunt on my desk yesterday, and inside, there was another one for you. Here,” he drags it across the desk towards me. “It’s still closed.”
What?
“What? Why?”
“I wouldn’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the paper that was on his hand before. “You have to open it to know.”
Funny. He seems to be in a mood.
Accepting the letter, I bow. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
The fragile paper burns my hands, bringing some anxiety to my chest.
These are the last words she left me.
I don’t think I am ready to see them. To read them.
Upon his lack of answer, I reckon I’m dismissed. Straightening, I turn and take a step when his cold voice stops me in my tracks.
“Where are you going?”
My back burns with the weight of his gaze on me. It is confirmed when I turn and see him glaring at me.
“I thought you didn’t need me anymore.”
“Why have you been avoiding me all day long, Camilla?”
“I–”
I’m interrupted by the scraping sound of his chair and watch as he rounds the desk and steps right in front of me.
He’s close. Too close.
“I asked you a question.” His tone is low but demanding.
A small part of me wants to dash out of the door and avoid him for the rest of my life, but the other part, the biggest one is basking in the proximity. Enjoying the shivers he causes and the somersaults my stomach does.
His dominance has a weird effect on my body, but it’s oh-so addicting.
“I was busy,” I stammer out.
He arches an eyebrow and takes a step closer to me. In response, I take one back to keep the same distance between us. The duke doesn’t move closer this time around, but the way his jaw tenses shows me how unhappy he is today.
“You ran out of every division I stepped in today. It seemed more like running away from me than being busy.”
He’s not wrong, but am I going to admit it? No.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. I wasn’t aware that you needed me today.”
“Do not play coy with me, Camilla.” His jaw locks tightly for a second time before he continues, “That type of attitude does not sit well with me at all.”
I am about to answer when he takes one step forward again. He looks intimidating, even if fear is the last emotion in my brain right now. In response, my body moves backwards again, just because there’s a little part of me still clinging to the professional boundaries.
But as I move, he continues doing the same, and we quickly enter this tango of the chase until I am cornered when my back hits the cool wooden doorway of the office.
Bloody hell.
Vincent Hawthorne smirks triumphantly and takes that step he so wanted, his body temperature oozing off and rubbing onto me. My chest heaves with the realisation of the proximity and the predicament he’s put us in—once again.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid, and by the mischievous glint in his eyes, he’s quite aware of that.
“I- I’m sorry,” I stutter.
“You’re not,” he goads. One of his hands rises to find the door behind me, firmly splaying it against it at my head’s level.
“Your Grace–” I start but am cut off by him.
“What, Camilla?”
“We shouldn’t–”
“We shouldn’t what?” His breath hits my face as his head comes impossibly closer, leaving just a few millimetres between us.
“I-”
“You know,” he whispers breathily. “I didn’t sleep a wink.”
I can’t help but gulp, and when I don’t answer, he presses, “Do you want to know why?”
I can imagine. As it seems, I wasn’t the only one having trouble sleeping.
I nod playing the game he wants me to play.
“Because you’re like a weed in a garden.” Ouch. “You’ve seeped your way in, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to rip you out, you keep growing and thriving in it.”
“I didn’t mean to–”
“Let me finish.” His voice is deep and low but not as harsh as I’d expected. “It’s not that I don’t like it— or you .”
A soft, barely-there, touch on my shoulder has me opening my eyes. It leaves a trail of fire in its wake .
Sensory overload.
The proximity of his tall, muscular frame dominantly looming over me and the intensity of his piercing gaze all burn through my body, finding its way to my soul. It’s suffocating and oh-so addicting.
And so, so inappropriate .
“I’m constantly thinking about you ever since I saw you again at my aunt’s memorial. It’s not that I had forgotten about you throughout the years. Some of my fondest childhood memories were spent playing with you,” he sighs. “I guess I wrongly waited to see the same little girl I had left behind all those years ago. Not a grown and attractive woman.”
Attractive?
For me, having a stupid, innocent crush on this gorgeous man is one thing. To have him reciprocate it and risk his life? That’s a big no-no.
“I am sorry, Your Grace,” I whisper, bringing his eyes, which were glued to my collarbone, back to mine. “I’ll make sure to keep my distance or…”
“Or?”
“Do you want me to resign and leave?” I propose.
His eyes widen right before bringing some distance between us.
“What?”
His hands curl tightly on the sides of his hips as his face contorted in confusion.
“If I am such a nuisance, I will resign. I may just need a month or two to find somewhere to stay and get a new job, but after that, I could be out of your hair, Your Grace. I know that the will explicitly said that if it weren’t on my own free will you wouldn’t be able to–”
A weird noise sounds from deep in his chest, something between a displeased grunt and a growl. And then, right after, he stalks forward, closing the distance between us all over again. Except for this time, he is not impossibly close to me; he’s pressing me against the wall, letting me feel every corner and ridge of his hard, muscular body.
“Y-your Grace,” I stumble on my words. “Wha–”
I am cut off by warm, soft lips pressing onto mine.
My body freezes in shock. As our mouths mould together, tingles course over my skin, bringing life to my body.
My legs wobble at the exact moment his arms wrap around my waist, keeping me upright. Strong but gentle, this man is holding me like I’ve never been held in my life.
When his tongue tentatively touches my bottom lip, and I open, his demeanour changes. The intensity rises, and the duke’s lips become rougher in their movements.
I have no choice but to lose myself in the moment, enjoying how this man takes control of the moment with such ease, just like a ballet duet, where he leads, and I have no other choice but to follow.
Like an out-of-body experience.
My hands fist his shirt, pulling myself closer to him.
Maybe my eagerness was all the message he needed, or maybe he just felt like doing it, but while one of his hands is holding my jaw, the other one lowers to rest at the top of my bum, bringing our hips closer.
The friction makes me moan, and that’s enough for him to grunt in my mount.
Dear god. I’ve had a couple of boyfriends in the past, but I have never— ever —been kissed like this. When air fails to assist me, I gently move away from his touch.
Expecting the duke to let go of me as if I’d burned him once the heat of the moment is gone, I’m surprised to feel him press his forehead on mine. Both our ragged breaths are still mixing.
His heartbeat under my hands is just as wild as mine.
“It was just a matter of time until I gave in,” he pants.
“I–you–this is not a good idea,” I mutter, looking down in shame.
“It isn’t,” he agrees. It hurts more than I imagined. “It’s probably the worst idea ever, but I can’t hold it in anymore,” he confesses. “Every time I see you, I have this crazy urge...I can’t stay away. I won’t stay away, Camilla.”
“What does that mean?”