Desire and Deceit [bxb]

9. Acceptance

Anyone else excited for Zayn's comeback?

...

"A month is all I ask for. If at the end, I'm still too much for you, and if you still find yourself loathing our differences, I give you my word on my honour, I shall bother you no more."

Alvin lay in his bed, restless, and strangely breathless, as he recalled Vincent's parting words from the day.

Had this really happened?

Had he really been non-reproachful to the duke's (respectable) advances today? Had he even been in acquiescence? Had he even... appreciated them? Would he, in fact, reciprocate them, sooner or later? Was he indeed on that path already?

What had changed?

Had a few words of sincerity and feeling been enough to melt away his resolve of iron? Or was it the undeterred, undefeated dark eyes of the older man, that had done the trick, put him under a spell and bewitched him?

What was next? Writing a letter to the duke to contact the archbishop as soon as possible to issue a marriage license? What was he thinking, telling the man that he did not loathe the courtship, and then accepting the said courtship? In his old grandpa's books, he might as well have gone and confessed his undying love to his suitor.

Alvin closed his eyes in frustration, trying to block out his thoughts in vain, as the very moment an image of the duke's formidable, commanding, downright seductive face flashed before his eyes. The look on that handsome face as Vincent uttered those words, lips almost pulled into a pleading pout despite the ferocity of the moment. If they leaned in a bit closer, they could've almost...

Springing up in his bed, Alvin blocked out that train of thought. It would do him no good, only end up with him terribly aching for a touch he couldn't have at the moment he needed it the most.

Deciding that he had enough excitement to keep him up through the night, he got out of bed and walked up to his paint isle sitting in the centre of his room. A blank canvas sat upon it, waiting to be filled once inspiration hit its artist.

And inspired was one way to describe Alvin's current state of mind. And so, he picked up a soaking wet brush, dipped it in the deep red rouge that lay atop his vanity and painted.

...

"Alvin!"

Said man jerked out of his slumber as thundering steps sounded right outside and into his room, rousing him up from his very feeble sleep.

It was none other than Elizabeth, of course.

"Alvin!" She parroted, about to burst forth from the excitement in her voice. He wondered what kind of news could have brought her that kind of happiness so early in the morning. Maybe Mr. M proposed to her.

"Grandpa told me that you and the duke are courting now! How exciting! I am so happy for you, brother!"

Of course, no news except one of his love life could ever make Lizzie so happy. Not even her own love life. That silly sop.

"Lizzie, what are you on about?" He groaned, sitting up in bed and wiping a hand down his face. He could feel a headache coming.

"Oh, don't you play so coy now, Mr. Frazier." Lizzie giggled, and the sound of it made his ears ring. "We know everything. Duke Presley wrote to grandpa."

"He did what?" He shot out of the bed in alarm. The desire to go back to sleep was only secondary now. "That bastard-!"

"What? Wait, what?" His sister asked, confusion and concern marring her face.