Page 38 of Disguised Desires of a Scarred Duke
“No, that’s quite enough. It’s your turn to listen now. I am so tired of being told what I’m doing wrong and how I’m supposed to behave. I will explain what happened because that’s what I want to do, not because you demanded it. I’m here tonight becauseI’m taking charge now.”
Eleanor pointed at the bed, then looked back at William. “Sit down, Anthony.”
His heart raced as he opened his mouth to protest, but he was so impressed by her strength that he did as he was told.
He’d never heard a proper lady speak with such bold conviction. Without a word, he walked to the end of the bed and sat on the mattress between the tall bed posts.
Then he thought his heart might stop when Eleanor pressed herself between his legs and gave him a fiercely passionate kiss.
Just as his arms encircled her waist to pull her closer, she pulled away and stepped back towards the small desk against the wall.
“I’m going to tell you what happened. And then I want you to make love to me, Anthony.”
Again, William felt his heart squeeze tightly with shock.
“What? Eleanor, wait …” William bolted to his feet again, but the woman driving him mad with anxiety and anticipation pointed at the bed. When William reluctantly sat down again, Eleanor grinned.
“I am in charge now, remember? I am asking you to be with me tonight. If you don’t want that to happen, ask me to leave right now, and I will.”
William swallowed hard and scrubbed a hand down his face. He and Eleanor stared at each other for a few seconds more, but he knew he would let her win.
She was daring him to deny her, but how could he? Touching her was all he’d wanted since the moment they met. As long as she knew that she was in control of every moment and every action they took together tonight, he would not refuse her.
“I am listening, Eleanor,” William said, this time with the respectful tone she deserved.
Eleanor draped her lavender shawl across the bed, then pulled one of the silver clips from her hair. The long curls on one side of her head tumbled down over her right shoulder.
“The night of our plans to meet in the park, my stepmother threatened to match Regina with Cecil Phillips if I did not agree to be his wife. She insisted that I attend the opera and put on a performance of my own as his companion. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my sister, Mr Black. I needed time to determine the best course. And so I sent you a message through our footman that I had to cancel and would tell you more soon. I should have known not to trust my stepmother’s loyal staff. If you did not receive that message, it was not because I didn’t reach out to you.”
The other silver clip on the left side of her hair loosened quickly in her hand. Eleanor set the pair of clips on the corner desk and unclasped her silver necklace that dripped with amethyst stones. She let it slide down her chest and into her cupped hand.
“Miss Whitfield, what are you doing?”
William’s blood pressure began to rise as she slipped off her dainty white gloves and added them to the pile of jewellery on his desk.
“Yes, Mr Phillips proposed to me outside the opera house. But it was a stunt and nothing more. He has no more interest in me than I have in him. Whatever he stands to gain by making me his wife has nothing to do with me at all.”
Eleanor walked to the far side of the large bedroom and extinguished the two wall-sconce candles with her breath. She then did the same to the taper candles flickering from the small table underneath.
William felt his upper lip bead with sweat and wiped it dry with the back of his hand. “I didn’t know.”
“No, of course, you didn’t know. Just like you didn’t know, the note I sent when you came to my door was vague for a reason. I hoped you would read between the lines, but I realize now that you simply don’t know me well enough yet. That I haven’t yet opened up to you as boldly as I’ve wanted to for so long.”
She nestled into the embroidered cushion of the desk chair and slowly untied the long white ribbons wound around her ankles that attached to her white satin shoes.
“Eleanor, you are playing with fire. If you continue this tempting behaviour, I fear there may come a point when I can no longer help myself. It’s not fair to bait a gentleman like this.”
William’s voice had the rasp of a man labouring to steady his breath.
But Eleanor continued without pause, “What you witnessed tonight was a terrified woman who had just been threatened by the very man she’s been trying to avoid. A threat to wed me in order to bed my sister. A more foul and frightening plot than I had ever before heard. Running into you was my saving grace. As seems to be happening over and over again.”
The duke swallowed hard when Eleanor lifted her dress and petticoat hems high enough to slip a finger under the tied garter of her right stocking. She slid the pale stocking down over her foot and let it drop to the floor.
Before she could do the same with the left stocking, William was on his knees at her feet.
“Stop this now, m’lady. Your father would roll in his grave if he knew that you offered yourself to a scarred and moody sea captain instead of waiting for your wedding night.”
Eleanor clenched his shirt in her hands and pulled the duke close enough to move her fingers from his chest to his hair.
