Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

“ I t’s so cold…”

Cecilia slipped out of her room, the chilly air wrapping around her like a thin veil as she padded down the dimly lit hallway. The old wooden floor creaked softly under her feet, each sound echoing in the stillness of the estate.

It was past midnight, and the winter night outside had frost clinging to the windows like delicate lace. She shivered slightly, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, but the chill was not just from the air; it was the unease settling in her stomach that kept her restless.

As she walked, her mind drifted back to her conversation with Evie from the day before and the excitement in sharing the news that a new member would soon be joining their large family— the duke’s potential wife coming over soon.

The thought of another woman stepping into Alistair's life sent a pang of jealousy through Cecilia, one she couldn’t quite understand. She paused in the hallway, leaning against the cool wall, her heart racing as she considered the implications.

After taking a deep breath, she continued toward the library, her thoughts spiraling deeper. Was it mere jealousy, could it be having such a terrible man find a match before her annoyed her?

This has to be it, yes? There’s no other reason for this feeling. None.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss the thoughts, but they clung to her like the frost on the windows. She sighed as she stopped at the library door, desperate to begin her escape from the turmoil of her emotions, if only for a little while.

Cecilia stepped into the library, the warmth of the room enveloping her, but her heart raced as she sensed a presence. A shadowy figure sat within, and curiosity mingled with apprehension as she stepped forward.

Oh.

Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized Alistair instantly, his presence both commanding and disarming. Beside him, was a small table with wine, and on his right, Cerberus, the loyal hound, sprang to life, barking excitedly and wagging his large tail, instantly breaking the tension in the air.

Cecilia opened her mouth but found herself momentarily speechless. Alistair looked different, yet undeniably striking. His hair, usually neatly styled, was ruffled and tousled, giving him an air of rugged charm that was hard to ignore.

She could see the shoulder bandages peeking from beneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt and rolled up sleeves, a stark reminder of his recent fall from the horse. The sight of him in this vulnerable state stirred something deep within her and she swallowed slightly.

Despite the disheveled appearance, Alistair’s features remained captivating. His jawline was sharp, and even with the faint lines of discomfort etched on his brow, there remained an undeniable allure in his deep-set eyes.

Cecilia had never seen him like this before—raw and unguarded. It was as if the barriers he usually maintained had slipped away. She felt drawn in as he shifted slightly in his chair, the bottle beside him glinting in the low light.

He’s just too… perfect.

How can one man be so handsome?

As Cerberus continued to bark joyfully, Cecilia cleared her throat, her heart fluttering as she stepped closer.

“Your Grace…”

“What are you doing here, Miss Everton?” Alistair’s voice cut through the night, curiosity lacing his tone. His dark hair fell just above his eyes, and the way he furrowed his brow made him look more contemplative than accusatory, which was a surprise.

“I was… I was but walking about,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing under his gaze. The warmth spread across her face, and she quickly looked down, hoping the shadows would hide her embarrassment.

Alistair’s piercing blue eyes seemed to scrutinize her, and she felt exposed, as though he could see right through her facade. “Walking about at night?” he raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping into his voice.

Oh, of all things to say, Cecilia!

“I mean, I couldn’t sleep,” she blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush. “So, I came to the library. It calms me down to read sometimes.” The admission hung in the air, and she felt a mix of relief and vulnerability. “I- I apologize, Your Grace, for intruding, or disturbing. I had not expected to find anyone here as well.”

Alistair’s silence was deafening, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dissecting her every word. She braced for the chastisement, her eyes to the floor.

“Reading at night? You must really love books,” at last, his voice cut through the air, and as she looked up, she saw the light illuminating his strong jawline and the slight smirk that played on his lips.

“I do,” she replied tensely, unsure how he was planning this as an attack.

“But I must know, do you always sneak around at night, or is this a special occasion?” Alistair’s voice was light, teasing even, which unnerved Cecilia.

There it is. He’s accusing me.

Or is he not?

His tone… and those eyes…

Cecilia swallowed, “No, of course not, Your Grace.”

A silence followed. Then finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alistair nodded slowly, a gesture that felt both reassuring and disconcerting. “You should be careful still. The library can be a lonely place at night. I believe my estate is safe, yet you can never be too certain.”

Cecilia’s eyes widened.

Is he concerned about me?

“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.” She stood awkwardly, unsure what her next steps were to be.

She had expected him to be more confrontational, but instead, he seemed relaxed, his posture leaning casually against the cushion. Cecilia felt heat rise to her cheeks as her eyes took in the outline of his frame once again.

Silence continued; one that was thick, almost tangible, as she watched him pet Cerberus, the animal leaning into his touch, clearly enjoying the affection. Alistair’s fingers moved gently through the dog’s fur, and for a moment, she felt a wave of calm wash over her.

Her heart began to thump again as he lifted his gaze to meet hers suddenly, a curious glint in his blue eyes. “You know, I do not mind if you truly want to pick a book to read,” he said, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “Or did you come here just to stare at me?”

Cecilia’s blush deepened, and she fumbled for words. “I was… I’m only- I’m surprised you let the dog inside,” she admitted, her eyes moving to Cerberus again.

Alistair chuckled softly, the sound warm and inviting. “So you think me heartless enough to not let him into the main house every now and then?” he retorted, raising an eyebrow, his surprisingly playful demeanor easing the tension just a bit.

“I did not mean such,” she replied quickly, her voice steadier now, “It’s just unexpected, Your Grace.” The moment hung between them, and as he spread himself, relaxed yet confident, made her acutely aware of the space they shared.

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, breaking the silence again, concern creeping into her tone.

Alistair’s expression shifted slightly, his smile lifting as he regarded her seriously. “I am indeed. These wounds are but nothing,” he reassured her, but the slight crease on his forehead suggested otherwise.

Cecilia watched him closely, noting the way his shoulders relaxed as he spoke, yet there was an underlying tension in his posture. “You don’t look fine,” she pressed gently, finding herself want to bridge the gap between them.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, the movement casual yet revealing. “It’s just been a long week,” he admitted, his gaze drifting momentarily to the floor. “But enough about me. What about you? Sneaking around at night, what keeps you up?”

The playful banter returned, yet Cecilia felt tense, the air charged with something unspoken that lingered just beneath the surface. “I shall get that book and be on my way.”

She drew in a breath, steeling herself as she walked over to a nearby shelf. Her fingers glided along the spines of the books, searching for something to distract her from the magnetic pull she felt toward him.

As she pulled a volume from the shelf, she couldn’t help but back at the duke, curiosity bubbling within her. “And what brings you to the library, Your Grace? You certainly don’t strike me as the reading type.”

Alistair chuckled, the sound rich and warm, echoing softly against the wooden shelves. “Ah, so you think you can judge a man by his appearance? That’s a poor assessment, Miss Everton.”

He pulled himself off the chair and trotted over to her, easily leaning against the shelf. Cecilia’s breath caught in her throat as he crossed his arms, the muscles in his biceps subtly flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

This man is… disarming.

“This library is mine, is it not? I read more than most people, believe me,” his gaze was daring, “You included, I’m certain.”

Cecilia felt a familiar fire ignite within her, a mix of challenge and intrigue. She turned to face him fully, her heart racing slightly as she tried to shake off the warmth creeping into her cheeks. “Alright then, Your Grace, if you’re such a reader, name your three favorite books.”

His smirk deepened, eyes sparkling with mischief as he contemplated her request. “Only three? That’s quite a limitation, Miss Everton,” he replied, his gaze locking onto hers, making her pulse quicken.

“Fine, I’ll allow you to bend the rules a little,” she shot back, trying to maintain her playful demeanor despite the tension she could feel simmering between them.

Alistair leaned closer, his presence intoxicating, as he began to list his favorites, each title rolling off his tongue with a certain reverence that caught her off guard.

As they delved deeper into their discussion, their preferences clashed. Cecilia argued passionately for her beloved classics, while Alistair championed modern literature, his voice rising with enthusiasm.

“You’re telling me you prefer dusty old tomes over fresh perspectives?” he shook his head, a teasing glint in his eye despite the disapproving tone.

“Dusty? Those ‘old tomes’ have shaped literature!” she countered, her voice a bit louder than intended, the heat of their debate igniting the air around them. “One would expect considering your obsession with keeping tradition , you would appreciate them more. I smell fraud, Your Grace.”

Alistair burst into laughter, a deep, infectious sound that echoed through the quiet library. “You are certainly something, Miss Everton. You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Cecilia tried to suppress the flutter in her stomach at the unexpected sight. As she watched him, a warmth spread through her. His dark hair fell just above his eyes, framing a face that seemed to glow with delight.

She struggled to return to the debate, yet every time he smiled, it felt like a crack in her resolve, making her heart pound in a way that both thrilled and terrified her.

His lips curled up in a way that made her heart race, and she couldn’t help but remember their kiss—the way his mouth had felt against hers, warm and inviting. A blush crept onto her cheeks, and she quickly looked away, trying to gather her thoughts.

The atmosphere shifted, becoming charged and heavy in the dim light of the library. Alistair’s continuous laughter gradually trailed off, and when she finally gathered the courage to glance back at him, she caught the playful glint in his eyes. It seemed he had noticed her blush, and a smirk spread across his face, making him even more handsome.

“Are you alright, Miss Everton?” he teased, his tone light but laced with something deeper. “I know I can be tempting, but you don’t have to continue to stare at me so. I may revert to my idea you’re trying to trap me in a marriage with you.”

Cecilia felt a wave of panic. “I wasn’t staring!” she protested, her voice a bit too high-pitched. “I was just—uh—thinking.”

“Thinking, hmm?” Alistair raised an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. He took a step closer, the space between them shrinking, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his broad shoulders filled out the tailored shirt. “About what? How charming I am?”

Is he… flirting with me?

Cecilia fought to suppress a smile, but it slipped through. “I don’t believe you would be so full of yourself, Your Grace,” she managed, trying to maintain a facade of indifference. Yet, every part of her was acutely aware of his presence, the way he leaned slightly toward her, drawing her into his orbit.

She took a deep breath, attempting to regain her composure. “Your Grace, I-,” she began, her voice faltering as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I wanted to apologize for kissing you before.”

Alistair’s brow shot up in surprise, his expression shifting from amusement to intrigue. For a fleeting moment, the lightness of the conversation dissipated, replaced by a tension that crackled in the air.

An almost excited glint flickered in his eyes, and he leaned forward, a predatory smile playing on his lips. "You’re thinking about our kiss, in this moment, Miss Everton?”

Cecilia’s heart raced, and she felt herself flush even deeper. Panic surged through her, and she stammered, “I—uh, no! I mean, yes, but not in a manner as-” She let out a groan, “I had just panicked in the moment, I did not mean- and I didn’t want to trap you in a scandal.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, desperate to clarify her intentions.

Alistair’s gaze remained fixed on her, a dangerous spark igniting in his eyes. The silence stretched between them, thick and charged, as he seemed to savor her flustered state. He leaned deeper into the shelf, stretching his long legs out in front of him, the fabric of his tailored trousers hugging his form.

“Cecilia,” he finally said, his voice low and smooth, “I know all this now. The past few days have taught me a lot, for example, I won’t be stopping my sister and Nathaniel’s wedding in any sort.”

His voice lowered, “I have learned a lot about your family, and about you, Miss Everton.”

Alistair stepped closer, his presence enveloping her like a warm blanket, and Cecilia fought the urge to lean into him. The air was tense and electric.

What are you still doing here, Cecilia?

She felt her cheeks flush, her mind racing as she struggled to maintain her composure. She stammered, desperately searching for a way out of the moment. “I really should?—”

“Should what?” It was as though Alistair could tell she wanted to run as he interrupted, his gaze piercing as he tilted his head slightly, a challenge in his eyes.

“Leave. Goodnight, Your Grace!” she blurted out, waving the book as if it were a shield. The words tumbled out in a rush, her desperation bubbling to the surface.

Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and fled the library, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She could feel his eyes on her, and she cursed herself for the way her heart fluttered at the thought of him watching her go.