Page 53 of Duke of Fyre

Elias chuckled softly, his hand at her waist tightening as they continued to dance. For a moment, it was just the two of them—no titles, no expectations—just the intimacy of shared laughter and an easy connection that felt entirely new.

"Tell me," he said softly, his voice dropping, "why does it matter so much to you? Being the perfect duchess?"

Lydia's heart gave a small lurch at his question. She tensed slightly. "I don't know what you mean."

He didn't respond immediately, as if waiting for her to realize it herself. The dance continued, the music swelling around them, but in that moment, all she could hear was his voice, asking a question she didn't have an answer to yet.

"Shall we take a walk outside?" she suggested impulsively, the cloying heat of the ballroom along with Elias's presence so close to her becoming a bit much.

A bit of a smile played around her husband's lips and he nodded as he led her outside wordlessly. The second they stepped out of the doors, into the coolness of the night air, Lydia drew in a deep breath, relishing the momentary peace.

"Too warm inside?" Elias asked softly, his hand still at her waist as he guided her down a secluded path.

"A little," she admitted, though warmth wasn't entirely to blame for her flushed cheeks. The memory of their dance lingered, the way he'd held her so close, how perfectly they'd moved together.

They walked in companionable silence, the sounds of the ball fading behind them. Lydia was acutely aware of his presence beside her, the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his thumb absently traced circles on her hand where it rested in the crook of his arm.

"You surprised them tonight," he said finally, his voice low and intimate in the darkness.

"Did I surprise you as well?" She dared to look up at him, finding his eyes already on her face.

"You always surprise me, Lydia." The way he said her name made her shiver. "From the very first day, when you dared to stand up to the Beast of Fyre..."

"You're not a beast," she whispered, turning to face him. "You never were."

Elias's hand came up to cup her cheek, his touch feather-light. "Perhaps not," he murmured. "Or perhaps you've simply tamed me without my noticing."

Before she could respond, he bent his head and captured her lips with his. The kiss was gentle at first, almost hesitant, but then Lydia sighed against his mouth and something in Elias broke. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened. Lydia's hands found their way into his hair, something she'd dreamed of doing for so long...

The sound of approaching voices shattered the moment. They sprang apart, both breathing heavily. Lydia hurriedly smoothed her skirts while Elias ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I... that is..." For once, the mighty Duke of Fyre seemed at a loss for words.

"We should return inside," Lydia said quickly, her voice unsteady. "People will wonder..."

"Yes. Of course." Elias's face was already closing off, his duke's mask sliding back into place. "The carriage should be ready."

The ride home was excruciating in its silence, both of them carefully looking anywhere but at each other. Lydia's lips still tingled from his kiss, and her mind raced with questions she didn't dare voice. What had the kiss meant? Would he pretend it never happened? Would they ever talk about the growing connection between them?

But as they reached Fyre Manor, Elias merely helped her down from the carriage with perfect courtesy, bid her a stiff good night, and disappeared into his study.

Lydia stood in the entrance hall for a long moment, her fingers touching her lips where his kiss still burned. "Oh, you impossible man," she whispered to the empty hall. "What am I going to do with you?"

Only silence answered, broken by the distant sound of Elias's study door closing with firm finality.

CHAPTER 21

When the sun rose a few mornings later, Lydia stood at her bedroom window, watching the flurry of motion outside, her fingers absently touching her lips. The memory of that moonlit kiss still haunted her, a lingering sensation that seemed to burn hotter every time she thought of it. Even now, days later, she could feel the ghost of his touch, the way his hands had trembled slightly as they held her.

She shook her head quickly. There was no time to ponder about kisses and her husband. Tonight… she swallowed nervously. Tonight her parents were coming to dinner.

Lydia could not help but sigh deeply at the thought. It wasn't that she didn't love her family, but…

"Your Grace," It was a young Mayfair footman who appeared at her door and she turned quickly. It had to be important if the man came all the way to her bedchamber.

"His Grace requests your presence in the drawing room," the young man said simply before disappearing once again.

Lydia breathed deeply, then turned around and slowly made her way downstairs.

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