My Darling Duke

The silence felt thick, charged.

She pressed deep with her fingers, massaging the twisted muscles. No sound passed his lips; in truth, Kitty believed he still held his breath. It was clear the sheer intimacy of her touch, the presumption of her action, rendered him speechless.

“You are the most brazen, shameless, impudent…” The low words exploded from him on a sharp exhale.

Her movements faltered, and she snapped her head up to peer at him. They sat together for a moment, frozen, staring at each other. His head dipped forward, his features spilling into sharp relief. The mask had been removed, his lips were flattened in a harsh line, and his eyes were chilled. Distressingly, their faces were so close that with just the slightest shift from either, their lips would meet. Her stomach clenched tight at the awareness, and a peculiar longing swelled inside her.

“How do you dare?”

The biting words sliced through the stillness of the night. An alarming distance cloaked his demeanor. Something unknown trembled inside her. But she managed to shrug and say, “Are you not in pain? Perhaps my touch will help. When my papa was alive, we had horses. Many times, I assisted with rubbing them down and massaging their flanks. I daresay this is similar and may provide some relief.”

“Your continued impudence staggers me.” His voice sounded strange, unusually rough.

Kitty flushed in acute embarrassment. She was unable to explain that she cared. That somehow it hurt to think of another in pain and ignore their need when she could possibly help. And I am silly. Why should I care about him?

She was, after all, only a curiosity to him. A cure for his boredom, a passing interest of which he would soon tire. “Do you wish for me to stop?”

He drew back into the shadows but did not proffer a reply. The muscles jumped beneath her fingertips, twisting into hard cramps. She felt his entire body stiffen against the pain, and Kitty simply shifted, placing both hands on his thighs, and started to massage.

Seconds, then minutes passed, until the tension eased from his body and the muscles beneath her touch became more pliant. He made no effort to break the odd tension, and she truly had no words. The duke placed his hand atop hers, halting her massage.

Kitty glanced up at his hidden mien.

“Thank you, Miss Danvers. The pain has eased considerably.” Now his tone was soft, questioning, with another indefinable undertone.

She slowly pulled her hands from beneath his, hating how her heart jerked. “You are welcome, Your Grace. I’m relieved my impudence helped.”

His lips curved in a semblance of a smile.

Then more silence. And she wondered if there would ever be a time she would be comfortable within his presence. They were simply worlds apart in their connections and personalities. With a silent sigh, she shifted her attention to the fountain in the distance, not liking that he could see every facet of her expression when his was still so carefully hidden. “Why did you dance with me?”

Another seemingly contemplative silence, then he said, “I wanted to.”

She tipped her head to the night sky, gazing up at its vast beauty. “Was it worth it?”

“Look at me.”

Everything inside her tensed, but Kitty turned to him. “Come into the light.”

Another dip of his head, and their lips were once again improperly close and the cast of his face revealed. He reached up and smoothed her hair away from her brow. A terrible weak-kneed feeling assailed Kitty. She swallowed her gasp of surprise and simply stared at him. Suddenly it seemed important to say something, but her tongue would not obey.

Oh, why had she followed him?

“It was worth it,” he finally murmured. “Thank you for the honor.”

A soft gasp escaped her. The dratted man could be charming when he wanted. Her emotions were running amok, and she could not understand any of them. It was imperative for her to flee this darkened piece of their world, but she wanted to stay, to know more about him if he would allow it. Wasn’t that how friendship was formed? Through honest conversation?

“Why did you stay away…from society?”

He glanced at her, visibly struck.

Would he answer? She felt adrift in this strange, fraught tension.

“A faint sensation would rush to my head whenever I thought about stepping about in society. The walls seemed to close in, making it difficult to breathe. For months, the memory of falling in the House of Lords haunted me. The pity and derision on the faces of men I’d called friends. Men whom I’d drank with and even raced with. The idea of facing them made my heart pound, the cravat around my neck feel like a noose, every sca

r feels like a failure, though I know how ridiculous the notion was.”

Kitty was still, unafraid to move lest his low murmur halt. He spoke without shame or embarrassment, only a rueful reflection.