Page 38 of Disciplined by the Duke
He leaned back in his seat. If he had to observe her eat every meal he would. Anything to make the hollows of her cheeks disappear. And he had to admit he enjoyed watching her. The tightness in his chest began to ease until she said, “You said you failed your brother. What happened?”
He froze, every muscle tensing.
She laid a hand on his forearm. “I apologize. I had no right to ask.”
He barked out a harsh laugh. “I dragged you in here and am almost force-feeding you. I think that gives you some rights.” He took a swallow of wine. “Besides, it’s no secret.”
“Nevertheless, if you don’t wish to speak of it I’ll understand.” One side of her lips turned up, the rueful expression endearing.
The smile warmed him in places that had been chilled for years. She would understand, and he wished to tell her. “My brother, James, was four years younger than me. He followed me everywhere when we were children, made a pest of himself. When we became older, I started to enjoy his company. I liked that he admired me, and I would sometimes act to impress him.”
He twirled the stem of his glass, lost in memories. Until that fateful day, they were mostly happy ones. “The Earl of Brunswick and his family were close friends of ours and we were at their home, visiting. Lady Arabelle used to run around with us like she was one of the boys. She was utterly fearless. And reckless. I knew this, and yet when she asked for the reins on the phaeton the three of us were driving in, I gave them to her.”
He paused, and let out a breath when she squeezed his arm. “I didn’t want to give them up, but James was laughing at her rashness and urged me to hand them over. So I did. And she drove us too fast around a bend. Our carriage overturned and James was killed instantly. Broken neck. All because I didn’t hold on to the damned reins.”
“That wasn’t your fault. You must know that.”
He grimaced. “I know that my actions were responsible. Fault doesn’t play into it. There are merely actions and consequences. Cause and effect. There can be no dispute that if I had been driving the phaeton James wouldn’t have been killed that day.”
She sighed and picked at the food. “Sometimes no matter what you do, the consequences are always bad. But I don’t think James would blame you or want you to feel guilt for the rest of your life. Like Amanda wouldn’t want me to starve for her.” Shrugging, she popped another bite into her mouth.
The memory of that carriage ride rolled through his head, and his throat closed. It was different for her. Her sister was sick; she hadn’t gotten her killed. And she wasn’t in the same position as he. The son of a duke had different expectations for conduct, different responsibilities. Unless he maintained order, those responsibilities would swallow him whole.
He looked down at the woman beside him, eating as sparingly as a bird. She was his responsibility, too, but one that wasn’t a burden. He craved to take her in hand, give her the calm purpose that a disciplined mind could achieve.
He forced his muscles to relax. Because of their different stations, that wasn’t possible. So he would make sure she was safe and healthy, and discipline himself not to touch her.
She didn’t eat everything on the plate before she sat back with a hand to her stomach, but it was a good start, he decided. Marcus filled another small plate with fruit and held it up to her.
“No more.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly eat another bite.”
“Every meal needs a little dessert to finish it.” He picked up a ripe strawberry and held it to her lips. “Open up.”
Eyes on his, she slowly opened her mouth, and all the blood in Marcus’s body rushed south. When her small white teeth bit into the red flesh, he nearly groaned. Shifting his legs, he held up another morsel. Bit by bit she ate the fruit he fed her.
Why had he never fed a woman before? This was quickly becoming one of the most sensuous experiences in his life. Her little moans of appreciation thrummed through his body. Each time her pink tongue darted out to lap at the juice on her lip his stomach clenched. Her warm breath caressed his fingers, making him wonder what it would feel like if her breath caressed other parts of him. The black of her eyes and heaving of her chest told him she wasn’t immune to the experience, either.
He held up a bit of melon, the juice running down his fingers. He brushed her lips with the peach-colored fruit. Instead of opening up for him, she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and stared at him. Her eyes were a plea, a question.
He put the plate of food down. “Miss Smith. Elizabeth.”
“Liz. Please call me Liz. It’s been so long since anyone has.”
“Liz.” He cupped her face, his thumbs tracing her cheekbones. “This isn’t right. You’re my servant. You might feel obligated to me because of our relative positions.”
“I don’t feel obligated.” A wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows. “I don’t know what it is I’m feeling exactly, but it isn’t that.”
His heart skipped. He was on the edge of a cliff. He shouldn’t take that leap, but, god, he wanted to. “What is it you want?”
Her cheeks heated under his hands, and she bit her lip. He tilted her head to face his better. “Look at me. Tell me what you want, but remember, all actions have consequences.”
She lowered her gaze to his lips, took a deep breath. “I want you to kiss me,” she whispered.
He hadn’t expected her to be so forthright. So honest. Pain pierced his heart, and he didn’t know if the woman in front of him was opening a hole in his heart or filling one. Her face ran the gamut of emotions. Longing and hope. Fear that he might reject her. Curiosity over what she was feeling. He saw her, and she was beautiful.
She was a magnet, drawing him in. His lips hovered above hers for an instant, inhaling the breath she released. He brushed his mouth against hers, once, twice, before pulling back to look at her again. Her eyes were closed, lips slightly parted, looking for all the world like a woman aching to be touched.
Sod it all to hell. He crushed his mouth to hers and drank of her like she was a spring and he was dying of thirst.