11
Camilla White
A loud, relieved exhale leaves my mouth as soon as I lock my bedroom door. There’s no way I’ll be able to finish whatever it is that I still have to finish tonight. Not after the way he just lit my body up.
Everything burns, my limbs are Jello, and my brain is mush.
A cold shower should be enough to pull me back in place.
What’s worse is the man is freaking royalty. He’s the duke, second in line to the damn throne, and he’s interested in me?
All this time, I’ve been thinking the attraction was one-sided and probably stemming from the good times we’ve spent together as children, but the way he kissed me tonight—full of hunger— showed me otherwise. And yet, knowing all of the things that are meant to keep us apart, he still chooses to give in.
What am I to make of this?
What am I supposed to do? Give in?
I want to. But then what?
This is the kind of deal I would never accept on a clear and fully functioning brain. I was never the person who would deal well with casual. I get attached.
And that is something neither of us can afford.
I can’t stay away. I won’t stay away, Camilla.
His words resonate in my brain, reminding me how I felt in his hold, how his lips felt on mine and how, right then and there, we wanted the same thing. It was only when his touch reached my chest that I was knocked back to my senses.
I might have returned to common sense, but the attraction and tension are still there. And worse, it’s reciprocated, regardless of whether it’s right or not.
It’s so stressful because the irrational part of me wants it. Craves it. And the other? The rational part is hesitant…fearless of how bad the outcome can be.
His leathery, wooden scent, mixed with benzoin, lingers on me from being pressed against his hard, chiselled body. Being held on his lap while making out and having him groping me like that might have been one of the hottest things I’ve done so far.
But, oh my lord, I want to do it again.
“What should I do?” I mumble, catching Primrose’s attention. “I’ll catch feelings. I know I will.”
This is so messy. Catastrophic, even.
“Should I tell him no?” I ask as her little paws rhythmically get closer to me. “I can always go to him tomorrow and say I can’t go through with the arrangement.”
With a defeated sigh, I sit on my bed just as Primrose reaches me, nudging my leg with her snout.
“What am I going to do, Rosey?” I ask while picking her up in my arms.
As expected, she doesn’t answer with words. I wish. But who else will I talk to? This dog is everything I have left. Everything else is just…memories. Memories of the people who have left me alone in this world.
“How can the duke be interested in me?”
Primrose wails in answer to every sentence I let out. As if she can understand me. The only problem is... I can’t understand her.
“This is a mistake,” I sigh.
A soft lick on my cheek comforts me, and I let out a light chuckle, placing her back on the floor. She heads to her bed for a nap as I go back to work. As the rest of the day quickly goes by, I keep busy, ending the day in the orchard with Primrose, as usual.
I spend the rest of the evening taking care of her and myself, not even daring to step away from my chambers or the orchard.
Every moment of the day is spent with uneasiness and anxiety. With the duke able to show up at any moment and in the manor, I am constantly on edge, looking for an escape route in case of an encounter.
I couldn’t possibly bear the proximity again tonight.
Once I finally step inside my bedroom for good, locking the door, I sigh in relief.
It only lasts a few moments, though. As I catch sight of the letter the duke gave me earlier, my heart squeezes tight inside my chest.
“It’s in moments like these that I wish I was just a little innocent dog, just like you,” I tell an unpreoccupied Primrose as she runs to her water bowl. “The drama of choosing whether to eat or sleep seems much easier than the ones I am currently facing.”
She doesn’t care for my words as she quickly quenches her thirst from running around in the orchard. In contrast to her relaxed life, I’m on edge as I pick up and look at the untouched letter. The paper is smooth on my hands, without a wrinkle or bend at the corners. Her family crest marks the melted golden wax that seals it shut.
No one has read it yet.
Of course, that’s something the duke would never do.
What did Aunt Lizzie have to tell me? What did she want to leave as her last words instead of the intense goodbye we said to each other?
I don’t think I am ready to read it.
“Not yet,” I mumble, opening the nightstand’s first drawer and tucking it inside. “Soon. Hopefully.”
Undressing from my working clothes, I quickly put on my pyjamas and lay on the bed, cosy under the covers that envelop me softly, reminding me of cotton. It’s warm and comfortable, even if sleep evades me, making me toss and turn for hours on end.
Thankfully, the day has been full.
Busy enough that I have been able to avoid him again. All good reasons. At least, from my perspective.
But that talk…We need to have it very soon. The duke needs to know I can’t go through with it.
Dinner time has just finished, and all the other workers are wrapping up their tasks to leave. In a little while, no one will be around, and I’ll be able to go to his office and finally tell him I changed my mind.
“Camilla,” Louise calls from the back door. She’s no longer dressed in her working uniform, but her hair is still tight in a bun on the back of her head. “The duke was heading off to his office and told me to summon you there before leaving.”
“I’ll be right there. Thank you,” I tell her cooly before scurrying off to my bedroom.
Picking up my phone, I notice an unknown number has left five calls and three texts. Opening them up, I realise the duke has found my phone number and tried to contact me.
Good thing I don’t keep it around when I am working.
Looking at the screen, I read and reread the texts.
Unknown number
This is Vincent. Meet me at my office whenever you can. It’s been three hours, Camilla. My. Office.
The last one was just short of ten minutes ago.
Oh, boy . Laying down on my bed, I spend a few minutes gaining some courage and hoping everyone has already finished up everything by the time I come out.
“I can do this,” I tell myself in a ridiculous pep talk.
Taking a deep breath, I look over to the watch, noticing I’ve been here for almost half an hour, and head out, navigating the corridors that lead me to the main hall where I can head to the staircase.
There are secondary accesses to the noble floor, the ones used by the staff daily when working. But doing it at night, after working hours, could be considered suspicious if I were to be seen.
It’s enough that we’ve already kissed, especially with me being his employee.
“Oh god, this is so wrong,” I mumble as I reach the great hall.
I am about to reach the first step when I hear a voice, “For a moment, I thought I had to come and get you myself.”
“No, Your Grace. I’m coming,” I say without even thinking about the double-entendre.
“Let’s see if I will let you come tonight,” he comments smugly.
I gasp at his crude words. Looking around to make sure no one is around, I turn to him, hoping to scold him. I know someone could be around to listen, but I am faced with an empty hall and his office’s double doors open.
Without another choice, I follow him inside.
It’s not like I can have this conversation out here in the open anyway.
My legs feel like jelly, but I will them to walk the same way he went, up until I reach the inside of the office and close the door behind me.
I am suddenly hauled up into Vincent’s arms as my back hits the wall right next to the wooden door.
“Oh, my,” I exclaim, surprised.
In reflex, my arms wrap around Vincent’s neck, holding on to him. Just like every encounter before, I am overtaken by the strong, pleasant scent that this man carries. It quickly makes me forget all the doubts and hesitations that have been tormenting me for the past twenty-four hours.
“Were you avoiding me again, Ms White? ”
Vincent’s words hit me deeply. Even though his words are polite and proper, his strained whisper shows how much he is displeased with my avoidance. Again.
“No, Your Grace. I was just making sure no one was around before coming here.”
“You’re lying, little Milla ,” he mumbles, letting his forehead fall onto mine.
“Y-your Grace, we–” I am cut off by his lips slamming against mine.
They’re warm and soft, even though they’re pressing against mine roughly. His body acts in sync, plastering itself against me and plucking a loud moan out of my throat. All touching points send my body into short-circuit, making it forget that it does have—in fact—a brain.
The duke’s huge hands travel up my arms. One settles on my shoulder, close to my neck, and the other cups my jaw. Then he tilts my head, forcing it into the position that allows him to deepen the kiss.
It’s when our tongues touch that I can feel the fireworks exploding. Bright, colourful, and loud, they take over all of me and keep the rational side secured inside a tiny box.
Wrong? Who? Nothing. No one.
This feels right.
“I’ve thought about you all day and night,” he rasps once we stop kissing.
My eyes open slowly, and the sight before me almost makes my knees buckle. Vincent’s brown eyes are even darker than usual, almost black due to his dilated pupils. The short-trimmed shadow over his lower cheeks and jaw surrounds his red, swollen lips in a huge contrast.
This man is gorgeous.
He claims to want me and keeps coming back to show how much he is willing to give in while knowing how out of reach it is. He’s still willing to risk everything.
No, I can’t be the reason for that.
“Your Grace, I don’t think this is a good idea,” I start with a shaky voice.
“What do you mean?” He leans back a little bit but still keeps his hips pressed against mine.
“I’ve been thinking.” I stop to suppress a gasp when his hips shift, slowly grinding into mine. “Y-you’re a duke, while I am a commoner, your housekeeper.”
“And? I have been forced to consider these damn hierarchies all my life when in reality, I couldn’t care less.”
“ But I do. There’s too much at stake: my job, my reputation, your reputation. And your life because, as you have said, you have responsibilities.”
“Camilla, let me ask you a question, yes?” I nod hesitantly. “Do you desire me? Do you want me?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then, what’s stopping you?”
“Everything,” I whisper. “The world.”
“ Fuck the world ,” he spits out, annoyed. “It can burn down for all I care. If it is both of us inside this manor, nothing else matters.”
His hands lower from my jaw to my cleavage, dislodging the upper button of my white shirt. My breath hitches when the tip of his index outlines the curve of my breast.
“Tell me to stop,” he pleads.
Stop . It’s an easy word. All I need to do is say it aloud. Right? Right.
My mouth opens, but no words leave my lips. When the silence stretches for longer, another button is freed, showing the top of my bra’s cup.
“Camilla,” the duke growls. “Tell me to stop, or I won’t be able to control myself.”
I have to say it. I need to say it.
And yet, the low vibration of his voice shakes me to the deepest parts of my core, undoing the resolve I had to master for the past day. It’s gone in a split second, completely dominated by my desire for him.
Tilting my head up to look him in the eyes as I voice my answer, I shyly whisper, “Don’t stop.”
And that’s all he needs to hear before diving in.