Page 32 of Unraveled By the Duke
For three days, she had not heard from Alexander. Did not know even whether he was alive and well. There had been no contact with him, and she felt as though she had been locked away and forgotten.
The dream had been wicked, lustful, and wanton. But waking up to find it nothing but a fantasy left a void inside her. That yawning void radiated despair like a black miasma. It enveloped her.
How can I bear another day like this? Wanting him but rejected by him, held at arm’s length. But do I want him? Really? He ishandsome; of that, there is no doubt. But he is cruel and cold. He is a rake and a wastrel. I would be better off alone.
The thoughts were hollow and did nothing to fill that void. She could feel the ghost of his touch. The taste of his lips and the press of his hips.
A knock suddenly sounded at the door to her suite, startling her. In the quiet of the night, it seemed very loud.
For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, perhaps still clinging to some vestige of sleep. She lay still, her heart pounding, her mind still full of the passionate intensity of her dream.
The knock did not come again. The outer door did not open; she had not locked it, so there was no barrier to whoever was outside. They had simply given up and gone away. Or she had dreamed it.
No, that is the sound of the creaking floorboard just outside the door! Someone is out there. Someone large, judging by the sound.
Before she knew what she was doing or could think better of it, Celia bolted from the bed and grabbed a dressing gown from the wardrobe, belting it over her nightdress.
It must be him. None of the servants would be awake at this hour. What brings him to my door?
She could still remember the dream. It colored her thoughts now, making her cheeks flush and her pulse quicken. What else could a husband want from his wife in the middle of the night?
Even a husband who denies that he is one.
By the time she reached the door, there was no sign of Alexander or anyone else. She stood in the hallway, candle in hand. It valiantly tried to hold back the darkness, but only marginally succeeded.
A sharp creak in the distance told her the direction he had gone. She hurried after the sound on quiet bare feet.
Finally, she reached the library. She had found it on her first day, but had not ventured inside much due to the sparsely populated shelves, the dust, and the air of neglect. Now, Alexander stood before the cold fireplace at the other end of the room. A bottle of wine stood on the mantelpiece beside his left hand.
“Good evening, Your Grace,” Celia greeted from the doorway.
Alexander looked over his shoulder at her. His dark hair fell over his face, casting his eyes in shadow. He grabbed the bottle and tilted it to check how much he had already consumed.
“Good evening,” he returned. “Are we back to honorifics again?” He sounded weary.
“Alexander,” Celia said.
Speaking his name in the middle of the night felt like an intimacy that brought heat to her cheeks and reminded her of her state of undress.
She felt his eyes on her like a physical touch. Instinctively, she wanted to hide herself from his gaze, but she forced herself to stand where she was. Her dressing gown was thick enough to hide her figure.
“Did you knock on my door?” she asked.
“I did,” Alexander replied.
“I was asleep. But I am here now.”
“Yes, you are here. I apologize for waking you. It was unfair of me to inflict my wakefulness on you.”
He took another long draught from the bottle, studying the label as he lowered it.
“My father tried to teach me the palette needed for wine, but I was a poor student. I do not have the taste for it to drink it for pleasure.”
Celia chuckled. She crossed to him and held out her hand for the bottle. In the light of the candle, which she placed on the mantelpiece, she thought she could see a bemused look on his face.
He passed her the bottle, and she took a mouthful, wincing as she swallowed.
“Neither do I,” she admitted, returning the bottle. “Papa talks about flavors and aromas, but it is beyond me. I prefer tea, I must say.”
