Chapter 16
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
Caroline startled and then froze for a moment.
After her conversation with Damien the other night, she had found herself turning his words over and over in her mind. He had been so unexpectedly kind to her, so patient, and she had felt the walls she had so carefully built around herself begin to crack under the weight of it.
That was precisely what worried her.
She had trusted people before—had wanted so desperately to believe the best of them—and had paid dearly for it every time. It was not that she believed Damien was lying to her about George. If she was being honest with herself, she was beginning to believe that he was not.
Still, she wanted to see for herself if Damien was truly investigating George’s parents, and whether he had found anything he was keeping from her.
She had learned long ago that the surest way to protect herself was to seek the truth with her own eyes rather than rely on the word of another, however sincerely it was given. And so, when the halls had finally gone quiet, she slipped out of her room and made her way toward his study.
Apparently, though, not all the servants had retired for the evening. She turned around, slowly, and relaxed when she saw Argyle, Damien’s steward. He would be easy to dismiss.
“Good evening, Argyle,” she pleasantly replied. “What are you doing here so late?”
The young man smiled politely as he held up a brown portfolio.
“I have received word on an inquiry His Grace had sent out to Carlisle,” Argyle explained. “I thought it would be best to take it to him straightaway.”
Caroline’s curiosity piqued.
“Carlisle? As in near the border of Scotland?” she inquired.
Could Damien have told the truth? Was he truly searching far and wide for George’s parents?
“Yes, Your Grace,” Argyle replied, sounding impressed. “You know your geography.”
She let out a small laugh.
“My father had an inclination for maps,” she explained. “I spent many an hour with him teaching me where everything was.”
A pang shot through her chest as she said that. It was one of the few ways she had discovered to be close to her father. He loved talking about maps and would let her sit on his lap as he taught her all about them.
“A fond memory, I am sure,” Argyle replied.
Caroline nodded, feeling tears threaten to form in her suddenly stinging eyes. She cleared her throat as a way to push them back and took a step toward Argyle.
“I am afraid, though, that His Grace has already retired for the evening, has he not?” she said, returning to the matter at hand.
Argyle frowned.
“He has? Strange. He often keeps late hours in his study,” the man murmured. “Well,” he sighed. “No matter. I shall put this on his desk so that he may have it in the morning.”
“I can put it there for you,” she quickly offered, not wanting to risk losing her chance to snoop through Damien’s study. “I was heading there anyway to borrow a book.”
The lie came out quick and smooth, and Caroline wagered that if she were a better woman, she would feel bad about it.
However, years of silence and investigation with Elara into Evander’s disappearance had taken its toll on her, and now lying felt as natural as breathing. At least about certain things.
“Oh, no, I really should take it myself,” Argyle insisted. “His Grace would have my head if he knew I treated you as a mere messenger.”
“Oh, do not be silly,” Caroline urged with a sweet smile. “He does not have to know that it was I who put this on his desk.”
Though Argyle still looked unsure, he returned her smile a second later and handed the portfolio to her.
“Thank you, Your Grace. You are most kind,” he replied.
“And you are most welcome,” she responded. “Good night, Argyle.”
“Good night, Your Grace,” he returned with a bow.
Caroline waited until Argyle disappeared around the corner, then flipped the portfolio over. She tsked her tongue as she found it was sealed with wax, making it impossible for her to open it without evidence of her snooping.
“It is fine,” she whispered to herself, tucking the portfolio under her arm. “Surely there are other letters with their seals already broken.”
With her determination renewed, Caroline continued on her way to Damien’s study and was relieved when she found the door unlocked. She turned the handle, expecting to find the room dark and empty; however, as she opened the door, she found neither to be true.
Her mouth dropped open, taken aback as she took in the sight before her.
The room was lit by various oil lamps, and Damien, in fact, was not in his bedchamber as she had thought, but instead was in his chair.
His head was leaning back onto the headrest, his amber eyes closed, and his handsome face a mask of pleasure.
It was not his face that caught her attention, but his hand.
It was slowly stroking up and down the hardened shaft of his manhood, and seeing this instantly made her body react.
It looked so different from the way it had when he was in the lake.
She had only glimpsed his member once, and it had hung low, pale, and thick between his muscled thighs.
Now, however, it appeared thicker, longer, and erect.
Curious veins ran along his deep reddish-purple length, making her mouth start to water.
Her lower belly tightened, and something warm and wet spread between her legs as she became fascinated with how he stroked himself.
“Caroline,” he breathed, his back arching as his fist tightened around the dark purple, engorged head of his shaft.
Surprise and satisfaction flooded her at once, followed quickly by another shot of desire.
He is thinking about me?
Transfixed by the sight of him this way, Caroline drew her fingers up to her mouth, nibbling at the tips as her mind exploded with filthy, wonderful thoughts that she had never had before.
Seeing him naked at the pond had been a shock. Every bare inch of him was on display for her to see. Yet now, he was fully clothed, save for his manhood that he had freed from his breeches, and somehow, that was just as alluring as seeing him nude.
“Caroline,” he moaned this time, louder and deeper as his hand began to move faster.
I should leave! What am I doing?
She squeezed her thighs together tightly as another gush of warmth released from her core, and she moved her arm around her waist as if it could stop another one.
She should not be there. She should not be watching this.
Yet as she moved her arm, the portfolio she had completely forgotten about slipped from under her arm and fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Caroline froze, but as Damien’s amber eyes snapped open and focused on her, she felt a wave of molten heat soothe her rigid stature. She expected him to yell, to berate her for invading his privacy. Instead, a slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, and he gave his shaft another long, slow pull.
“I…” she breathed.
Her tongue darted over her lips as another wave of heat flushed through her veins.
Think. Think!
She could not. She was so enraptured and curious over what she was watching that her mind was completely blank.
“You appear pleased at what you see, wife,” his husky voice taunted.
A tremble ran down her spine, even as she shook her head.
“This is…” she rasped. “You are…”
“Yes?” Damien mused.
Her eyes drew down to his shaft again, its girth and length still wrapped tightly in his fist.
“Eyes up here, angel,” he teased.
Her eyes snapped up to his at once.
“What... what you are doing is very improper,” she finally got out.
He let out a husky chuckle, but he tucked himself back into his breeches; the act sent a strange wave of disappointment through Caroline.
“You know, you have a penchant for showing up whenever I am in a state of impropriety,” he mused, moving to his feet as he fastened his breeches. “One might start to think you like catching me in such a state.”
“No,” she blurted out, but just like when she was speaking to Argyle, she felt the lie on her tongue. That was what her protest was—a lie. For even if she denied her attraction to Damien, even to herself, she knew what was true. She knew that she wanted him; she wanted to see and feel more of him.
“Are you so very sure?” Damien asked, taking a slow step toward her as his eyes remained locked on hers. “You see, I have noticed something about you.”
Caroline began to nibble on her bottom lip as another tremble moved down her spine.
He took another step closer, but she did not move.
She felt transfixed, as prey did when it locked eyes with its predator.
A part of that creature surely knew it was about to be devoured, and yet despite such knowledge, it still could not move, could not look away from the predator’s deep gaze.
“What is that?” she whispered, feeling her heart begin to hammer as he drew closer.
He was standing right in front of her now, his massive body radiating warmth and tension as his head loomed above hers, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He leaned toward her, and she unwittingly closed her eyes, ready to accept her fate.
She shivered as she felt Damien’s warm breath on her cheek, her lips, and then the line of her throat—and yet, no matter how close he felt, he did not touch her.
“Your pace when you speak,” he whispered in her ear, and a soft sigh fell from her lips. “It quickens so very slightly when you lie.”
Caroline’s eyes snapped open, startled, and she was met with a smile of satisfaction upon Damien’s handsome face. No one had ever been able to detect her little fibs.
“Tell me I am wrong,” he coaxed, his one brow perking in challenge. “Tell me you did not stand there and watch me because you want me.”
Heat flushed to her cheeks, but as she reached for the lie, she found herself unable to say it. He had caught her. He would know.
“Damien...” she whispered, his name a plea. Though what she was pleading for, she was not quite sure.
“You wonder what I feel like just as I wonder about you,” he rasped. “Don’t you? When you saw me stroking myself, you wanted to know what it would feel like to have your hand wrapped around me instead.”
Caroline drew in a shaky breath, her heart hammering with exhilaration as she walked the fickle line between what she wanted and what she told herself she wanted. She could no longer hold back or deny the pull he had on her. He was right. She had desperately wanted to touch him.
“How do you—”
“Then touch me,” he murmured.
Before she could think, before she could talk herself out of it, he reached out and took her hand in his, and guided it slowly downward. Her fingers made contact with the hard heat of him through the fabric of his breeches, and a soft, helpless sound escaped her lips. She was on fire, but then—
“Your Grace!” Mr. Stones called, followed by insistent knocking.
Caroline jumped and covered her mouth at the sudden interruption.
A growl of annoyance rumbled from Damien’s chest as his arousal-filled gaze shifted immediately to one of fury.
He took a step away from her, and as if that broke the spell she was under, Caroline felt her feet unglue from the floor, and she took several steps toward his bookshelf—willing her heart and her breath to calm.
“What is it?” Damien barked, moving to the door.
He wrenched it open just as Caroline turned back around, and to her surprise, she found Mr. Stones to be grinning widely despite his master’s angry tone.
“It is your brother, Your Grace,” Mr. Stones announced happily. “He has just returned from his Grand Tour.”