Page 8 of The Duke’s Christmas Rejection

The men shuffle about, each looking at the plate next to them. I know it’s Norhaven that is in possession, but the question is, why hasn’t he come forth?

“I say, Norhaven,” Foxford blurts out gleefully. “Is that not a bean I spy on your plate?”

“Is it? That is my mistake. I thought I had merely bitten into some overly dried fruit.” The lie slips so seamlessly through his lips, as if it’s second nature.

“It is a yuletide miracle,” Penelope screeches, earning a wince from me. “What better pairing of King and Queen than my best friend and my brother? Why, it’s positively providential!”

“As it is with gambling, little sister,” he grumbles, refusing to even look at me. “Providence has absolutely nothing to do with it. It is all chance.” Handing his plate to one of the servants, he prowls forward, once more locking eyes with me.

There’s still anger there, but this time, there’s something else. If only I could discern it. “I would be honored to be your queen, Your Grace.” Penelope slips away, leaving just us two in the middle of the floor.

He doesn’t say a word. His demeanor is stiff, unyielding. Eventually, he bows, eliciting claps and cheers from all those around us. The icy band around my heart loosens as he extends his hand for a dance. For a moment, I thought he was going to reject me outright, casting me out in the sight of his friends and family.

His rich scent tickles my nose as we get into formation to do a simple allemande, and all I can think about is his broad shoulders, thick lips, and unruly hair. Despite everything that’s gone wrong this evening, he’s still a sight to behold.

“Your Grace-”

The moment the words leave my lips, he turns me about, a touch rougher than I expected, cutting me off. Then I suppose he’s still a little upset with me. Biting down on my lower lip, I continue with the steps, relishing in every touch that I’m able to receive. At least those are not outright hostile.

As we dance, my thoughts and fears wash away, allowing room for hope to blossom once more. Though he does not regard me with kind eyes, they no longer spit venom, which, in my mind, means success. His touch is light, barely there, but still, I can feel it branding me, tying me ever closer to him.

However, all too soon, the music fades, and I stand there in front of him, watching him bow and leave as others take the floor. There must be something I can do to make this right, to show him that I’m far better than what he thinks of me.

Begging off the next dance, I follow him to a corner, stopping when he turns and scowls at me. “Please, Your Grace.” I’m not sure if I’m emboldened by the holiday, the small bits of claret I was able to procure, or just the knowledge that this is my one chance to make him notice me, but I press my luck, forcing him to acknowledge me.

“Are you sure you want to be seen here with me? A man and a woman off in a corner can be cause for gossip indeed.”

I glance around, noting that no one is paying us the least bit of attention. Rallying my strength, I continue my suit. “My king,” I tease, attempting to lighten the mood. “Does not being your queen entitle me to one kiss? Even if it is just a chaste one?” My cheeks pinken as I realize exactly what I just requested.

What in the blazes is wrong with me? Lips trembling, I bring my gaze up to see how my question landed, but he’s like a statue—barely moving, barely breathing. Have I just jeopardized any future with him?

He peers down at me, his eyes dilating for a moment, but just like in the hall, they return to normal so quickly that I’m left wondering if it’s just a trick of the light. My heart pounds while he contemplates me, studying me as if I am nothing more than an insect or strange flower. It feels both unnerving and odd to be under such scrutiny.

“How bold of you to request so intimate an action from me. Have you no propriety at all?” His harsh words burn my ears, setting my stomach churning.

“Forgive me, Your Grace. I only thought-”

“You are my queen in name only, for the sake of the game, and nothing more.”

I step back, my heart pounding in my chest. Have I truly imagined our interactions? Though they were not rife with affection, there was still a part of me that hoped… My world begins to crumple; however, I cannot leave until I truly know that I have no chance.

“I know you have not been in my presence for nearly a year, but before then… I thought we were at least amiable.”

He sneers down at me, the stony facade coming back up. “You are but a child. I looked upon you as if you were a sister. Nothing more.”

Rising, I pull my shoulders back, thrusting out my chest. The moment my breasts press against the fabric of my dress, his eyes drift lower, darkening at the accidental display. This should prove I have not imagined our connection, yet there is no way I can say as such without calling even more attention to his lingering gaze.

“I am eighteen. No longer a child. I daresay, I’m more than enough woman to garner the affections of a man.”

His lips curl up into a feral smile, sending currents of electricity down my spine. “Oh? You are a woman then? Does that mean you know what it is a man desires? Craves? And here I thought you were an innocent. Am I to believe that you’ve been tainted?” He tsks softly, shaking his head. “For shame.”

My mouth drops open, anger burning through me at his accusation. “How dare you assume as such. Is this some sort of punishment? Is that why you treat me so cruelly?”

“Oh, my dearest Miss Cynthia.” His words flow around me like butter melting across a morning biscuit, setting my stomach to fluttering. “Though I do punish with my words, that is not the mode in which I like to exact my vengeance. You see.” Norhaven pauses for a moment, stealing a caress as he slides his index finger over the lace at the top of my bodice. “I like to take a more hands-on approach. Is that what you would like from me? To turn you over my lap like some errant little girl?”

The world stops as his touch scatters my thoughts. No longer can I hear the music tinkling in the background. It’s nothing but Norhaven and me. My breath comes in harried gasps as I stare up into his face, trying my best to discern the darkness I see in his gaze.

“But, Your Grace, have I not apologized? Do- Do you really need to punish me for us to make amends?” The very idea of him putting me on his lap, touching my body in a way that no one else has, sends my pulse skyrocketing, throbbing in that hidden place between my thighs. But still, the very idea is so improper, so out of the realm of possibility. There has to be another way. “I haven’t the money-”