Page 23 of His Auctioned Duchess
“You stare, Your Grace,” she murmured.
“You tempt, my lady,” he answered, his voice rougher than before.
Her breath hitched; she laughed softly to disguise it. “Then we are both to blame.”
The game continued. Caroline struck next, taking his knight with quiet triumph. “My question,” she said, her tone light but her heart unsteady. “What is it you truly want?”
He stilled. For a heartbeat, even the air seemed to wait. Then, softly: “Peace.”
The simplicity of it stole her words. Peace. Not power, not vengeance, not even love—just peace. Yet in the way he said it, she heard an impossibility, a yearning that could never be satisfied.
Her hand faltered slightly as she moved her next piece, and his rook swept forward, claiming her bishop.
“Your other glove,” he said.
Caroline smiled, though her pulse raced. “You are relentless.”
“I learned from the best.”
“And who might that be?”
“My enemies.”
She slid the second glove off, laying it atop the first. “I believe you mean your equals.”
“I have none.”
The words were not boastful, merely factual—and that, somehow, made them worse.
“You sound very sure of yourself,” she said, feigning nonchalance.
“I am sure of little,” he replied, moving his knight. “Except that you play recklessly.”
“Recklessly?” she echoed, lips curving. “Or bravely?”
“Foolishly,” he countered, but there was warmth beneath the word.
Their fingers brushed as both reached for the same pawn, and the contact was like lightning through her veins. Neither drewback at once. Caroline’s hand lingered, the edge of his glove rough against her skin. She felt his pulse—a steady, dangerous rhythm beneath restraint.
The tension shifted, thickened, sweetened by awareness.
Caroline took a step back, trying to look relaxed and unconcerned. “You know, Your Grace, you seem used to being the one in charge all the time. Does it make you nervous when things don't go your way?” she inquired, her voice light and playful.
The Duke met her eyes, his expression steady and calm. “I have never lost control,” he replied confidently, as if it was a matter of fact.
Caroline’s smile widened with amusement, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “Well, maybe that's because you haven't spent enough time playing against me,” she teased, a hint of mischief in her tone.
With a quick, decisive move, she slid her queen across the chessboard, capturing his bishop with a soft tap. “Looks like it's your turn to respond now,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction and a playful dare, as she leaned back, waiting for his next move. The game was getting interesting.
He regarded the board, then her. “Ask.”
“Why do you hide behind that title, behind the scar, behind… all of it?”
A shadow passed through his eyes. “Because people see what they wish to see. It is simpler to let them.”
“That sounds lonely,” she said softly.
“Lonely?” he echoed, almost as though testing the word on his tongue. “Perhaps.”
