The Duke's Maid & Lover

Chapter 15 -- When Night Calls

"After all, if you do not resist the apparently inevitable, you will never know how inevitable the inevitable was."
― Terry Eagleton, Why Marx Was Right

***

Before I leave, I want a promise from you, my lord," she said, her chin held high as though she could look at him below her chin. He was too tall, too sure of himself, she said to herself.

"Pray tell what other promises you want from me, Miss Lillie?" he asked, smiling.

"Over the past weeks, I have realized you couldn't possibly keep your promise of not seeing me as prey to conquer. As you pointed out generously, my lord, I, without intention, might be giving you some kind of signal. Since you now know it is unintentional, change your mind. I beg you, cease fighting me, for I'm not sure I can survive this." It was as if she wanted to believe him. She no longer trusted herself with all honesty. Something was wrong with her.

"Believe me when I say it's not for lack of trying that I haven't been able to get you out of my head." He muttered, angry to admit it to her, and he hasn't internalised it, let alone vocalise it to another.

"I don't know what--" She began, and he interrupted her by holding his hand up. There goes his little habit—the display of power.

"I think you do know, Lillie." He sighed.

But she really didn't know, or at least thinks she knows. All she knew was something was wrong with her stomach, and she couldn't possibly leave this room before sorting things out. When persuasion through words failed to move her, the Duke began another tactic, which was more effective. 

"Miss Lillie, please go, for God knows I am no saint unbothered by your charm."
Even though a little hesitant this time, Lillie stood her ground again and replied huffily, "No."
He bent slightly forward, his eyes holding her gaze. She was so focused on his face that she didn't notice what he took hold of. She instinctively leaned back, thinking he was trying to intimidate her by sheer proximity. Her foot remained where it was. He tugged the nightshirt in his hands, and she came forward, one hand reaching out to balance herself. He stood firm, his foot firmly rooted on the ground. Without a choice, she fell into him. She should have let go of his nightshirt, but it remained clenched in her hands. She opened her mouth to protest, making the mistake of looking up. Whatever it was she was thinking—nothing remained in her mind. He looked down at her like he would at a feast. He visibly swallowed before asking again, "No?"

For a moment, she was so confused about what the young Duke was asking that she simply stared. She moved her gaze to his lips, trying hard to look unfazed by all this commotion—but her one hand was resting on his chest, shivering with his intake of breath. His close presence swallowed her prominent figure. Without touching and talking, this was how tangled she felt with him. She told herself to say something—anything to make him stop. Unfortunately, her body had taken all it could of the constant tug of war with him, becoming too exhausting. Her lips felt dry, her throat rusty; she tried to swallow, tried to clear her throat, and finally shifted her gaze from his lips to his eyes. She wetted her lips before softly whispering, "No?"

All of his willpower was to resist the animalistic urge to bend down, throw her on his shoulder, and move this slow dance to his bed. He didn't want to kiss her slowly; he didn't want to discover every inch of her yet slowly. What he wanted was to kiss her thoroughly without holding back. But he knew that kind of move would have her calculating mind back at work—that was the last thing he needed. He wanted her to be—no, he needed her to be daring.
It was hard to move his gaze from her eyes, but it was even harder to move it from her lips. The small defiance act of no was unknowingly fueling his urge. He leaned down slowly, giving her enough time to bolt. This was going to be his last act of mercy. She didn't take the bait; she remained rooted where she stood, enclosed by his extended arm. He brought her even closer to him, watching as her eyes widened. She was breathing visibly now. He wasn't sure why he was giving her so many chances to turn around. Somewhere in the alley of his mind lay the desire to have her want him and not simply give in. It felt like torture to hold her so close to him and not kiss or undress her.