Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

What will I even say to him?

Eleanor clutched the reins firmly as her horse galloped down the dimly lit streets, the clip-clop of its hooves mimicking the frantic beating of her heart. Her gown billowed around her, catching the flickering light of the lanterns and casting dancing shadows on the cobblestones.

The icy breeze bit at her skin, sending shivers down her spine and burning her throat with each sharp inhalation. Yet, she pressed on, her gaze fixed ahead and unwavering. The darkness enveloped her, only to be broken by the pools of light from the streetlamps.

Her mind raced. Her thoughts were so scattered that she couldn’t seem to gather them long enough to make sense of them. Eleanor wasn’t sure how she was feeling. It was a strange mix of anticipation and a steady fear. With each passing moment, she was growing closer to Dayton Hall and more frightened.

She could feel the eyes of the city on her. Curious glances followed her as she passed people still strolling through the street. Eleanor was sure that she must have been such a sight—a lady in an exquisite gown riding through the dark.

The scandal sheets will no doubt be wild tomorrow.

As she rode on, the landscape gradually transformed from the crowded streets to the more quiet fields of the countryside. The road had turned softer, and the sound of the horse’s hooves became more muted.

In the distance, Dayton Hall was a dark shadow. The sight of it looming ahead made her shiver, and she was almost tempted to turn around.

She had come all this way, and she couldn’t help but wonder… What if the duke did not wish to see her? The thought made her stomach churn. She had cast him away, colder than the night air itself.

She slowed her horse to a halt, holding the reins as she tried to make sense of it all. Her gaze swept over the shadowed landscape, seeing nothing but the outline of the trees, the house, and the road before her. She took a deep breath and then urged her horse forward.

She saw it move suddenly, a strange shape that seemed to rush away from her and into the fields surrounding the house. Eleanor narrowed her eyes, trying to make out the figure, but then a strange feeling welled in her stomach.

There was no mistaking the broadness of his shoulders, the way he moved. Even from the distance, even in the dark, she realized she would always know him.

Without a word, she pressed her calves into the flanks of her horse, urging the beast to follow as fast as it could.

“Dorian!” she called, her voice drifting in the wind.

The wind whipped at her hair, and her gown billowed around her as if it might be torn off her, but she only leaned forward. Her eyes were set on him, watching as he slowed down just before a thicket, his form growing larger the closer she approached.

What is he doing out here?

Eleanor’s pulse quickened with each passing moment. The gap between them was shrinking, but it felt as if she was stuck in place. Frustration and desperation clawed at her chest as she watched him, hoping he would stay still just long enough for her to reach him.

“Dorian!” she called out, her voice piercing the night air.

It wasn’t Dorian who appeared to hear her, but his horse. In the faint moonlight, Eleanor could see the mare’s glossy coat as she struggled against his hold on the reins. Eleanor watched as his mare’s hooves thrashed wildly in the air.

With a curse, Dorian was thrown out of the saddle and to the ground.

Her heart leaped in her throat as she watched, frozen in place as he lay there motionless on the ground.

“No,” she whispered, urging her horse forward. A scream was stuck in her chest, tearing her apart from the inside out.

His mare had vanished into the night. The sound of pounding hooves faded until there was nothing but the blood rushing to Eleanor’s ears.

Eleanor swung down from her saddle the moment she reached him, and dropped to her knees at his side.

Is he breathing?

She hesitated to reach out, watching him as her stomach churned. She leaned in closer, turning her head and pressing her ear to his chest. She closed her eyes and held her breath, as if willing his chest to move.

“You had better not be dead,” she said in a shaky voice, her entire body trembling.

Her eyes narrowed as she continued to listen, catching the faintest hint of something… Eleanor shot up, her gaze falling to his face as she took in the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Am I dead?” he asked in a slightly dazed voice, his eyes still closed.

Eleanor’s heart clenched at the question, her breath catching in her throat. “No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the rustle of the night breeze. “You’re not dead.”

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, his dazed gaze locking with hers. “Are you sure?” he murmured, his words tinged with disbelief. “I cannot recall ever seeing something so heavenly.”

Eleanor sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

Dorian then reached up, his fingers brushing against her cheek with a feather-light touch. The feel of his fingertips was enough to give her chills, but she found herself wanting nothing more than to melt into his touch. His skin was warm.

“Don’t,” she pleaded. “Do not do this to me.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean? Do what?”

There was a storm raging within her, a maelstrom of emotion that was made only stronger by a sense of longing and fear. Her stomach was in knots, her body trembled, and she clenched her fists until she felt her nails digging into her palms.

“My brother confirmed what you said about Nicholas. He told me⁠—”

“So you believe me now?”

Eleanor took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“And you came all this way to apologize?” Another smirk.

She hesitated, her mind reeling. Why did she ride through the night like a mad woman? Was it to apologize?

She shook her head. “No, not entirely. I came to talk,” she said, though her words lacked conviction. “I came to⁠—”

His hand, still cupping her cheek, shifted slightly, and she felt his thumb trace the outline of her lips. Eleanor cursed him for the feeling that immediately stirred in her core, but even more so, herself for feeling it at all.

She pulled back reluctantly and took a deep breath. “I did not intend for this to happen, to feel anything for you. But I can’t stop myself, no matter how much I try to. I want you, in every way. It is tearing me apart. I have fallen in love with you, Dorian. I want more than you can offer me. A marriage of convenience will never be enough.”

As the words flowed freely from her, she could feel her heart clenching tighter and tighter. She was sure there would be nothing left.

“I have to end this madness,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Madness? I will show you true madness,” he said as he sat up.

In an instant, he was before her, his hand reaching behind her neck to pull her against him. The moment his mouth fell on hers, she told herself she needed to pull back, to run from him. But she couldn’t. Eleanor kissed him back, savoring the taste of his lips, the feel of his tongue against hers.

Dorian pulled back, breathless. “The only madness is what I have felt for you. The very thought of not seeing your face is torturous. I would rather endure the worst punishment than be away from you for a day.”

“What are you saying?”

“I love you, Eleanor,” he admitted, his eyes searching hers, as if checking whether she believed him.

She did. Though she couldn’t quite explain it, she was certain that the feelings she had for him were reflected in her eyes.

“I will not lose you, and I know that I could never stand to let you go. I won’t.”

And with that, he kissed her again. It was a softer kiss, one that held promise for more to come.

Sitting there in the grass, she found herself leaning forward, wanting nothing more than to be closer to him—as close as she could possibly be.

She found herself wrapped in his arms, lying beside him in the grass soon after the kiss. Eleanor lay there with him, face to face, her eyes closed as she soaked in his warmth and listened to the soothing sound of his breathing.

“You are shivering,” he whispered to her, tracing shapes across the nape of her neck.

She could feel gooseflesh rising wherever his fingers touched, and her body responded in a way that she had not been expecting.

Dorian sighed. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze.”

“Why were you out here?” she asked, her eyes still closed.

“I was fighting the urge to steal you away from your home,” he said, sounding as if he were only half-joking. Dorian was quiet for a few moments, then he shifted slightly beside her. “I was restless and needed some form of distraction. I thought a reckless ride through the night might settle me enough to make me not think of you. But it only made it worse.”

“Why is that?”

He smirked. “The horse is just as stubborn as my bride.”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. Turning over, she managed to get to her feet. Her heart, despite the fact that she had been lying down and comfortable, was still pounding in her chest. There was a light feeling in her chest, and she shivered, hugging herself against the chilly night air.

“Come,” Dorian said as he rose to his feet. “Let’s warm you up.”

The halls of Dayton Hall were darkened, quiet, and cool. Dorian could feel his heart pounding, the blood rushing through his veins, as he held her hand and guided her through the shadows. Her skin was cold, and he wanted nothing more than to press each fingertip to his lips and let her draw warmth from him.

More than that, he wanted something else.

As they neared the kitchens, he was all too aware that no one would be inside. It was late, and the staff was sparse as it was. Stepping into the room, he became all too aware of her standing right behind him. Dorian somehow managed to maintain his composure. But more than anything, he wanted to turn around and gather her in his arms. He wanted to back her up against the door and take her right there.

He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed as he realized that there was nothing stopping him from doing just that. In an instant, he turned to face her, seeing the surprise flash across her soft features.

He kissed her, hard and desperate. He kissed her as if she were the answer to each and every one of his problems. As he did, his hand pressed against her lower back slightly, and she melted into him. Like clay, she seemed to mold into whatever he needed her to be. And right then, he needed her to be his.

At that moment, he realized that he had never wanted anything so desperately, and he ached at the thought of not having her. As his hands roamed over her curves, his desire became more and more obvious. His length throbbed in his trousers, which had become much too tight.

“Eleanor,” he said, his voice a low growl.

He felt her shiver against him. Her hands were tangled in his hair as she kissed him back with the same fervor. Eleanor pulled back, her eyes searching his, her breaths ragged and uneven. He saw her then, her hair a windswept mess, her clothes disheveled, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to steady herself.

She was a goddess in his hands.

I need her.

Reaching out, he took her hand in his own, pulling her along with a determination that was unwavering. He did not stop as they climbed the stairs, rushing down the hallway. He knew if he were to stop, he would lose any sense of control. Dorian needed to get her alone, in his room.

Once they reached it, he all but kicked it down and pulled her inside.

Slowly, he trailed his fingertips down her neck, watching intently as gooseflesh rose to her skin. He continued down the swell of her breasts, tracing the curves before lowering his head to kiss them as well. As his lips brushed against the soft, fair skin, his hands slid up her back to the hooks of her gown.

“No,” she whispered, pushing him back slightly.

Dorian blinked.

Did I do something wrong? Does she not wish to?

Eleanor wore the most wicked of smiles, a smile that stirred his arousal in the most delicious way. Her eyes said it all, the way they peered up at him from behind her eyelashes.

“I want to keep the dress.”

Her words sank in, and he groaned. Never had such simple words had such a hold on him.

His hands slid around her waist and moved to her hips. He pressed her against him, making sure she was well aware of the spell she had cast over him. “What have you done to me, Eleanor?”

“Nothing,” she returned in a sweet, sultry voice. “Not yet, at least.”