Her Beastly Duke (Damsel in Distress #5)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

P olly had finished arranging her gowns and she assisted Briar with her bath. Once dressed Briar decided to pass the time by reading a volume she brought from her home library. Polly left Briar to her own devices after she stroked the fire; sparks and embers danced in the fireplace. The flames flickered and gently swayed to the wind. Briar curled up on the sofa and resumed reading the chapter where she had left off. Shortly thereafter, her eyelids grew heavy. It could only be the fire’s magnetic pull, like a hypnotizing dance it lured her in, and she embraced the warmth. It was so cozy and comforting. Briar came awake with a start when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She beckoned groggily.

“I am here to dress you, my lady,” Polly announced.

Briar could hardly believe it was time for dinner. How long had she slept? She quickly secured the book she was reading and stood up from the sofa. Polly had selected two gowns and carefully laid them on the bed, but she wanted a more flattering dress for her willowy figure. She decided on a lightweight chiffon dinner dress with a fitted bodice and an open neckline, which complimented her shapely cleavage. The sleeves had minimum ruffles and lace, and the skirt swept the floor. She looked at herself in the oval mirror as Polly pinned her hair. Why did she want to look beautiful for the duke? She was being silly.

Once satisfied with her appearance, she went to the dining room. The door opened to the warm enclave, which she welcomed after the cold draft in the hall. The duke stood up to greet her and she noticed he was not wearing a mask. He was handsomely dressed in a black dress coat, white vest, and wing collar with a white bow. His black breaches were well-tailored to his strong thighs.

“I trust you rested well.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I did not realize how much time had passed.”

The duke pulled her chair out, and Briar sat down.

“I busied myself with correspondence this afternoon and was surprised at how quickly the time had passed.”

Otis announced dinner was ready, and the footmen served the first course. The duke turned to Otis, “You may leave us until the next course.”

“Certainly, Your Grace,” Otis replied.

They were alone. Briar was suddenly keenly aware of the duke, even more so than before. She could not explain why, but her nerves were suddenly on edge. They sat, gazing at each other, and the candle's light played over his face. The silence had gone on for far too long, so she rushed to fill it.

“Do you not find the day-to-day task of running the estate tedious?” She directed her attention to her food, and they both began to eat.

“I suppose some aspects are quite repetitive. I often indulge in my pastimes, so I do not pretend to always be at work, which brings me to my question. Where did you learn to fence? You are almost as good as me.”

“I believe you are mistaken, Your Grace. It was me that bested you .” The cheeky sod . The scars had done little to dampen his confidence in this regard.

Julius chuckled. “Was it?”

“You lost your rapier, did you not?”

“I am happy it is you who raised the point. In keeping with the etiquette of the sport, should you not have followed the rules? The fencer who is still armed should pick up the rapier and rearm his adversary … courteously.”

“I can hardly argue that point, Your Grace.” Briar heard her rich laughter before she realized it had burst from her. Looking back on the situation it was all now quite humorous. “I needed to make a hasty retreat, so I did not think it was the best time to arm my opponent.”

“I see.”

“I actually learned to play by watching Duncan. I suppose his tutor humored me because he realized Duncan and I were very close. Neither of them thought that I would study the sport and understand it. So, one day, I challenged Duncan to a match before the tutor arrived. Of course, he refused until I asked if he was afraid I would beat him.”

Briar had the duke’s full attention, and it warmed her. She enjoyed recounting her childhood memories.

“Do not keep me in suspense. Did you beat him?”

“Not on that day. However, what I did was to prove that I had skills that could be developed. Duncan was so engrossed in fighting that we did not know when his tutor entered the room. From then on, I had lessons with Duncan and soon beat him.”

“Why am I not surprised? You are quite tenacious.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I suppose your experience was quite different.”

“Somewhat. I did have a tutor until I decided that I wanted to spar more often and with young men of different abilities.”

“Having a tutor was not challenging enough for you?”

“I wanted more unpredictability. I found that much more stimulating and exciting.”

Exciting . Briar caught her breath at the rushing sensation she felt when she heard the word. A rush of something indescribable fluttered in her belly. The thought of excitement made her heart race with anticipation of an experience she had yet to discover. She had a heightened sense of energy, and she was eager to release it. Briar put a delicate morsel in her mouth and slowly chewed. How could this be happening to her? Her mother would be mortified if she knew what Briar was thinking. She mustn’t. Yet, she could not help herself.

“In addition to having a tutor, I went to a fencing school and it had its advantages. In the beginning, I was pleasantly surprised by the strict set of rules, but I understood they were for the safety of all of us, as well as the visitors. The rules provided a suitable environment for the students' pursuit of learning the art.”

Otis appeared before the footmen cleared the table and served another course. Otis left and closed the door softly behind him.

Briar took a sip of red wine, and it must have been what emboldened her. “And did you obey them? These rules.”

“I was fined a time or two for breaking them.”

“Hmm,” Briar replied.

“Students were prohibited from swearing, discussions of an indecent nature, drinking, smoking, and fooling around or mocking other students while they practiced. I can assure you there were many fines.”

“I can only imagine.”

“I would like to spar with you tomorrow.”

Briar chuckled. “I thought you had enough, considering what happened the last time.”

His gaze gleamed. “Enough? I can never have enough.” His eyes wandered over her face and slowly down to her neck and … Oh .

There was a long moment of silence as Briar wondered if he implied, he could never get enough of … anything. She was as still as a statue except for biting her lips as she imagined his hand taking the same path his eyes took and then his lips. Her meal was long forgotten.

Briar nodded. “Very well. I will spar with you tomorrow. It is not as if I have much of a choice, but let's sweeten the deal. If I win, I can ask you anything I want, and you must provide an answer.” She wanted to know more about him, personal things, but she couldn’t just ask based on the nature of their connection; other wise she risked appearing too familiar, or impertinent. This deal negates that.

“I will agree if I have the same proviso.”

Interesting . He was just as curious about her as she was about him. She would do whatever it took to win.

He was being reasonable, so she could hardly refuse. “That is fair enough?”

“Then it is settled.”

The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile, and her eyes issued him the challenge. “I am sure I shall enjoy the game.”

“You have somewhat of a competitive nature.”

“I suppose it comes from having a twin brother who got all the attention.”

“What is it like having a twin?”

“Mama said we had always been close. The nursemaid tried to put us in separate cots, but I would not have it. Mama said I wailed until I was put in the same cot with Duncan.”

The duke chuckled. “You did not fight? I can remember Baxter, and I went a few rounds.”

“We did not fight. For the first few years, Duncan and I did not know what it was like to be apart. That was how it was until I was taught that he was a boy, and what a difference that made.”

The footmen came in and cleared the table, signaling the end of the meal, but Briar did not want it to be over. She was enjoying the duke’s company … immensely. She had a strong desire to understand this complex man who would be aloof in a moment yet kind and considerate in the next. She needed nothing more than to remain close to him to maintain this overpowering connection that she felt.

“Shall we retire to the drawing room?” The duke asked, gaze longing, expression wistful. He did not wait for an answer as he pulled out her chair.

She should end the evening now. She should leave and go to her room, firmly closing the door behind her. Her reasoned mind said that, but her emotions dictated something else entirely. Suddenly, self-conscious, she tucked a few tendrils of loose hair behind her ear, and her eyes darted to the door.

Briar followed the duke into the adjoining room. He moved to the table and held up a flask.

“Red wine?”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He had been charming all evening.

The duke handed her the glass, and his long fingers brushed hers, lingering. Her breathing grew rapid, and she felt a flutter in the pit of her belly. Briar stared at her hand before she moved it away and quickly took a sip of her wine. She detected a slight tremor, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed. He made no effort to sit, so Briar remained standing. In an instant, the duke took a step toward her. He was getting close.

“It is me that should thank you. I enjoyed your company at dinner. I was surprised to find that I was not self-conscious without the mask in a social setting.”

She could see the tiny lines around his eyes. “That is why I am here, Your Grace.”

His voice grew softer, and he cocked his head to the side. “It may seem inconsequential to you—”

Briar felt the overwhelming need to reassure him. She placed her glass on the table, and took a step forward, yet maintaining some distance between them. “Not at all …”

He inhaled, low and shallow.

“Briar,” he whispered, and there was a hint of something in her name … something she could not place because no one else had ever said her name in this way. His words were more breath than sound, like a light breeze that kissed her skin on a summer day. Briar was commanding her mind to think of these things, but it would not listen.

She opened her mouth to speak and could not think of what she wanted to say, and at that precise moment, he took two steps forward. The duke was far too close, yet somehow not close enough. He smelled of wine and spices. His hand moved, gently brushing her cheek. The fleeting touch was an undelivered promise of what was to come. He took another step forward, and Briar’s breath caught in her chest. Their bodies almost touched. She resisted the urge to step back, but she held his gaze. It was there in the depths of his eyes. He wanted to kiss her. She saw it, and there was a flicker of recognition in the depths of his gaze. He knew she was aware of it … aware of what he wanted. There was no mistaking it, the raw need. His lips tempted but did not touch, and she imagined they were soft and fiery, leaving a trail of heat where they almost were.

The duke raised his hand once more, but this time, Briar lurched away from him and took a step back. She could not, would not. At first, she thought she might welcome his kiss, but now that he was this close, she could feel panic rising inside her. She clenched her fist, and her nails dug into her palms. She felt unsteady on her feet, and a bead of perspiration appeared on her brow. There was nothing in his demeanor that suggested he meant her any harm. The duke was calm and stoic.

The duke’s hand fell away, and his eyes were resigned as if he knew this was the way the encounter would end. He touched his scar and the core of his vulnerability for a moment, and she got a peek inside, but not for long because he was proficient at hiding the hurt. His jaw tightened, and he lowered his gaze. A veil quickly shrouded the depths of his eyes. Wordlessly, he turned and walked away. He thought she was repelled because of his scar, but nothing could be further from the truth. He ought not to leave believing this. Briar took a step forward, but the duke could not see her. She wanted to call him back, yet nerves stole her words, and they were strangled in her throat.

The room was quiet except for the sound of his receding steps. She watched his retreating frame until his hand reached for the doorknob. She thought she would be relieved to see him leave, but she was not. Briar struggled with her feelings. The duke did not paw her, rip her garments or force himself on her. He was nothing like Lord Fredrick; there was no reason to fear him. Yet, she was apprehensive. She had never felt such conflicting emotions. In this moment, she had to make a choice and she did not wish to ruin everything between them. But what if she made the wrong choice? She would certainly regret the decision later. The thought was unsettling.

Tears pricked her eyes, although they were not quite welling up. She drew in a deep breath and took another step forward before she stumbled. “Wait.”

He froze, hands hovering on the doorknob as he decided whether he should leave. Slowly, his hand fell away from the doorknob, and he pivoted to face her. Briar took a few steps and stopped before he hesitantly moved forward to meet her. Once again, they were close. She gazed deeply into his eyes as she reached up and gently touched his scar, mirroring how he touched her cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against her hand. Neither of them spoke or moved then he took her hand and gently kissed her palm. The tender touch of his lips sent shivers down her spine.

She would surrender to him and show him she was not repulsed. Briar closed her eyes and waited; her senses heightened. Finally , she felt it … right there. A featherlight brush on her neck where her pulse pounded as much as her heart. His breathing was even more ragged than hers; eyes closed, she listened and felt. Her skin was hot and flushed, and it was not from the pressing heat of the room. She was not afraid and did not need to convince herself that she was safe with him. She desired his touch and needed his hand to linger. Briar leaned into his caress, wanting more. His touch was tender yet sensual, and it sent her senses reeling. This feeling was nothing she could ever have imagined, and she craved it more and more. She considered reaching for him once more in a moment of madness, just for a fleeting moment. It would be just a gentle stroke so he could feel the heat she felt when he touched her body.

How enticing .

Suddenly, the duke’s hand fell away, and Briar’s eyes flew open. No , her mind screamed, but she had the good sense to take a deep breath and step back. The duke’s gaze pinned her with its intensity.

“When we are alone, I would like you to call me Julius. When we are together, I will call you Briar. I am sure you will agree that we have passed the formalities.”

A small gasp left her. Briar loved the way her name sounded when it rolled off his lips. He said it as if he wanted to keep her … close.

“Julius,” she said tentatively. Why did she find him so fascinating? What was it about the duke that inspired this madness within her? Was this the result of two lonely souls finding each other? She had no answer but for a tightness in her chest.

“I think you should retire for the evening before I do something we will both regret.” As he spoke, he ran his finger along the curve of her lip.

Briar never thought she would long to be kissed with her first experience being such a horrid one. How had it gotten to this and how could he have such an effect on her? The sensation was strange and not quite decipherable.

“Good night, Julius.” Briar spun around and left the drawing room.

He radiated strength, power and virility, yet he had his fears and exposed his vulnerability. As she ascended the stairs, she could not help but think that she and Julius were in a horribly unequal position. He had the wealth and power and could easily dictate the terms. Perhaps she ought not to encourage his touch. No good would come of it.