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Duke with a Desire

Page 61

by Scarlett Scott

Ophelia understood at once that nothing she ever told the woman at her side would be kept a secret between the two of them. She didn’t trust Theodora. Not even the smallest bit.

“I have no notion what you’re speaking of,” she said firmly.

“But I saw you,” Theodora persisted, unsmiling. “I had retired to my room, you see. I was suffering from an aching head, and I needed to lie down. I was opening my window because I was overheating from the fire lit in the grate, and I required the fresh air. That was when I saw the two of you.”

Ophelia’s stomach turned to lead and sank down, down, down. She knew her supposed friend was being duplicitous. Likely, there had been no aching head, no need for fresh air. There had only been the need to spy upon Ophelia and Apollo. And oh, what fodder they had given her, depending upon when she had spied them and what, precisely, she had seen.

The orangery walls were made of glass. Transparent glass.

And Apollo had been on his knees. His head had been between her thighs.

The blood felt as if it were draining from Ophelia’s face.

“You are mistaken,” she said firmly, coldly. “If you will excuse me, I must mingle among the houseguests.”

She whirled away from Theodora without awaiting her response, feeling the other woman’s gaze burning into her back with each step she took. How she had ever been fooled by Theodora’s feigned kindness was a mystery. Now that she could so plainly see what her so-called friend was truly like, Ophelia understood that each word, every action, was calculated. Her smiles were as genuine as her friendship, which was to say not at all.

Ophelia busied herself by flitting among the other ladies in the drawing room. The men had dispersed after dinner for port and cigars. Some had wandered back, but others had yet to rejoin the group, Apollo among them. She kept watching the door, waiting for him to appear. They had only parted ways mere hours ago, but she missed him.

Being apart was torture. Pretending there was nothing between them was the most impossible feat of all.

After what felt like an eternity of exchanging small talk with her fellow masked revelers, Ophelia finally accepted that Apollo wasn’t going to rejoin them. She tried to quell her disappointment. After all, he had not promised her anything. Nor had they spoken of reconvening this evening when they had parted just before dressing for dinner. And out of an abundance of caution, she had seen him seated at the opposite end of the table. The distance between them had felt interminable. She had scarcely heard a word any of her companions had spoken. Her attention had been riveted upon Apollo.

“I shall leave you all for the evening,” she announced to the drawing room. “Please carry on as it pleases you. After all, pleasure is what must always come above all else in this little club of ours.”

With a formal curtsy, she swept from the room.

She had just crossed the threshold when she collided with a familiar wall of chest.

Big hands tightened on her waist, keeping her from falling.

“Phee.”

“Hush,” she whispered furiously. “You mustn’t call me that here.”

“Apologies.” He kissed her, fiercely, longingly, before straightening. “Come with me.”

She didn’t even bother to ask where. Ophelia placed her hand in his and followed him.

CHAPTER 14

“You want me to go in there?”

Clutching her dressing gown around her, Ophelia stared with great skepticism down at the darkened waters of the Wingfield Hall grotto.

On the walls surrounding them, lamps were lit, casting the caverns in a warm glow. The night air was cool beyond, but here, it was yet warm enough for a naughty swim. He had longed to have her with him, naked in the water, and now that he had her where he wanted his delectable Phee most, he refused to accept her refusal.

“Where else?” Apollo teased, kissing her temple and inhaling deeply of her scent. His arm was wrapped around her waist. He gave her a gentle squeeze. “If you cannot swim, don’t fear. I’ll have you.”

“Of course I cannot swim,” she burst out. “I shall sink to the bottom like a stone.”

“You won’t. It’s not that deep, but even if you falter, I will keep you from going beneath the surface.”

“Like a boulder,” she amended. “I’ll sink like a boulder.”

“I won’t let harm befall you. I promise to keep you safe always, Phee.” The words spilled from him, truer than any he had ever spoken to a woman who was not his sister or mother.

“Whatever will I wear? I haven’t a bathing costume.”