Page 57 of A Duke Reformed
"For what?" he breathed and tried to reach for her again.
Emma shook her head and took another step away, lifting her chin even as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "Please don't," she said quietly, forcing herself to keep moving. "I must go."
And before he could say another word, she turned and walked away. Her steps were hurried, her breath uneven, but she didn't stop. Not even when her chest ached. Not even when her legs begged her to go back.
"You have a caller, Miss Lockhart."
"A caller?" Emma questioned, reluctantly rising from the bed. "Who is it?"
"His Grace, The Duke of Montclaire, miss," the butler answered.
The words struck her like a bell tolling in her chest.
It had finally happened. Emma had fallen for a man she had no business loving.
Emma sank back onto the edge of the bed for a moment, her hand pressed to her chest. It wasn't just attraction anymore. It had not been for some time. She had fallen utterly, stupidly, and possibly irreversibly in love.
Lavinia had been right. Emma had tried to fool herself, to say it was an attraction, maybe admiration, certainly nothing permanent, nothing dangerous. But now she had no explanation for it. No excuse. It was love. Plain and simple.
She had given her heart to a man who had made it perfectly clear that he did not believe in love. That he did not want a family. That he had no desire to tether himself to another soul. And yet, she had loved him anyway. Recklessly. How foolish she had been. How dreadfully foolish.
Now, she had to face the consequences. Getting over it.
By the time she descended the stairs, the drawing room door had already been opened. Solomon stood with his back to the fireplace. He turned when he heard her, and their eyes locked as she strolled into the room, making sure to keep a distance between them.
"Your Grace," she said carefully. "I was not expecting a visit."
Solomon took a step towards her. "I find that hard to believe, seeing how we left things yesterday." He assessed her from head to toe. "How are you, Ducky?"
It was in that moment that Emma realized just how much had changed between them. When he first started calling her Ducky, she'd loathed it. The sheer audacity of it had enraged her. But as the days passed rolled by, the name began to unnerve her in other ways. It began to sound familiar. Intimate. It began to pulla reluctant smile from her lips, even when she didn't want to give him the satisfaction.
Now the sound of it stirred something far more dangerous inside her. It made her feel soft... vulnerable. It made her feel like melting, like folding into his arms and letting him win whatever battle they were pretending not to fight.
"I want to talk, Emma," he said, approaching her. "why did you leave so abruptly?"
"Your Grace, I'm afraid there's nothing to talk about," she said, moving further away. "It shouldn't have happened."
Solomon followed her, trying to close the gap she was creating between them in the drawing room. "Don't do that, Emma."
"I'm not doing anything." Emma reached for the back of a settee and stood behind it, like it was a shield between them.
He paused for a breath with his eyes on hers, and then, before she could react he braced one knee on the settee and leaned across the back of it. His hand found her waist, and held on to her, halting her retreat. She gasped at the sudden contact, her hands gripping his forearms for support as her breath hitched.
"You're running again," he spoke. "Why do you always run?"
Emma froze.
For one long, unbearable moment, she stood completely still, held between the heat of his body and the settee. She hated how vulnerable she felt in that instant. How the sound of his voice melted through the defenses she had been trying to build since last night.
With a sharp breath, she blinked hard and wiggled herself free, her fingers gently prying his hand from her waist. Solomon let her go, though he didn't move. Emma walked over to the window seat and sat.
She stared out at the overcast garden for a long moment before finally speaking.
"There's something I haven't told you," she said softly. "Something I've been keeping from you, Your Grace. And it's time you heard it."
Solomon tilted his head slightly, watching her with narrowed eyes. "What is it?" he asked.
Emma turned away from the window, forcing a smile. She was about to do something foolish. Something she would never do under any normal circumstances. But it was the only way she could protect herself.
