Page 46 of A Duchess to Reclaim

Air suddenly rushed into Amelia’s lungs and her eyes flew open; still blurry from the pleasure.

She whimpered at the sight of Dominic’s hard, handsome features; the liquid silver of his eyes as he stared deeply into her own. Her lashes fluttered again and she blinked, not at all sure that she had heard her correctly.

“Wh-what?” She stammered.

Dominic slowly let her go; but he flinched as he saw her stumble- as if ready to catch her.

“I’m sending you home,” he stated, then wiped his mouth with his kerchief. “You need a small break. Three days.”

Something about the way he did it spurred a sudden insecurity within her, and she blushed and took a small step back. It was exactly what she wanted to hear- what she had been praying for, and yet she couldn’t shake the sense that she was being dismissed.

“I- I thought you needed me here?” She asked, her pleasure slipping away by the second.

“Not like this. Not running away and cowering every time someone upsets you,” Dominic said. The slight tone of distaste made her flinch.

“Go back to Ellsworth. Check on your precious aviary, and gather yourself. When you come back, we will finish this together. And then we will move on.”

Move on.In all the commotion, she’d forgotten that there would be anafteronce the rumors were settled. What would happen then? Would he leave again? Would she be left to the solitude of Ellsworth manor? Suddenly the thought didn’t seem as appealing as before.

“What will you do?” She asked, not sure what else to say.

Dominic tucked his kerchief back into his pocket and straightened his jacket, already looking as if nothing had happened.

“What I always do,” he replied, turning away from her to leave, “I will handle my business.”

CHAPTERTWELVE

“Iwant you to say that again,” Dominic commanded, “And this time speak slowly. I want you totrulyhear your words as you say them.”

The Viscount before him shrunk in his chair, his face paling. Dominic was in a foul mood. Had been ever since he’d sent Amelia away. He knew it was for her own good, but the state he’d been left in since pleasuring her had put his body through an abominable torture. His loins ached constantly from being left un-sated, and though they’d by no means been spending frequent time together, Amelia’s absence was something he noted every time he stepped into his London house.

The information he’d just been given had only further served to darken his temper, and for the first time since his youth, he felt on the urge of losing his otherwise forthright self-control.

“These silk merchants work for me, Your Grace,” Viscount Tally said nervously. “It is my seal that embosses their crates; my name that is attached to these fabrics. If I continue to business with someone like you-”

The Viscount stopped as the pen in Dominic’s hands snapped in two, spilling ink down his fingers.

“Say it,” he growled out, ignoring the black, viscous liquid coating his hands.

“Your Grace, I-”

Dominic rose to his feet, and the Viscount visibly flinched.

“Your wife has a reputation of being loose, Your Grace,” he hurried out. “If your name is attached to mine no self-respecting seamstress or designer in Mayfair will want to purchase my fabrics. They’ll be maligned with prostitutes more than ladies.”

It sounded just as foul the second time as it did the first, and only served to exacerbate Dominic’s anger. He came around his desk with a quickness, seizing the Viscount by the jaw with his ink-stained hand.

“You disgust me, Tally” he growled out, his finger’s biting into the man’s flesh.

“As someone who impregnated a maid and now pay secret funds to keep the mother and pup quiet, I would expect you to be more careful with how you throw around such lascivious rumors. You see what you just said about my wife? I know it is false. But your situation, young Lord? Yours is far too verifiable.”

Viscount Tally’s eyes now bulged from their sockets; his face growing so pale Dominic could see the faint blue lines of his eyelids.

“How do you know that?” He rasped.

“I know all truths,” Dominic grit out, shoving the man’s face away from him. The black ink left a smeared handprint across his lower face; a brand of Dominic’s power.

“Get out of my office,” he then commanded, “If you are this weak, then I want nothing to do with your business anyhow.”

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