“Yes, Sebastian.”
He almost told her to stop using his name, then he hesitated. To be sure, it felt a little too intimate, but he could not say he disliked the sound. Not to mention that it was precisely what he had commanded, all for the sake of appearing as though they were happily married.
“Smile at me,” he said, and she glanced up into his face once more, offering a hesitant smile that he privately reflected showed nothing of the lover about her. “As though you desire me, Eleanor. I know you can do it.”
A knowing glint entered her eyes. “And if I told you that I did not desire you?”
“Then you will do well to pretend,” he retorted. “And stop your lying. I know when you do it.”
“A convenient trait.”
“Quite. So you will desire me, Eleanor. And you will smile at me, at least as long as we are in attendance here. And when we return home together, you will say not one word of complaint.”
She pressed a little closer, her breasts just brushing the lapels of his coat. “And if I do not, will you punish me?”
“I have a mind to do so anyway, after that showing with your dancing.” His hand found her waist, and her eyes sparked with excitement. “Did you think I would not notice or care, sweetheart? Or that I have not been plotting what to do about it ever since?”
“I had not—I had not known you would be angry.” Her voice turned breathy, and he recognized the sight of desire in her eyes. Oh yes, she wanted him, and he craved giving into that mutualwant.Lust, he knew, could be sated so very easily, and he had every right to her.
There were things he could do that would not count as consummation. Ways he could have her, yet not.
The evening could not end soon enough.
“I will show you in the carriage home,” he murmured as they came together for the last time that dance, “preciselyhow angry you have made me, Eleanor.”
She visibly shivered, her skin erupting in goosebumps. “Will you? Good. When are we leaving?”
He smiled at her as the dance came to an end and they bowed opposite one another. “When the night is over and not a moment before.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eleanor discovered many things that evening. The first was that she enjoyed being the center of attention. People treated her with respect now her name was Eleanor Fairmont, Duchess of Ravenscroft. Thanks to the Duke—Sebastian, she reminded herself—she was fast becoming one of the most influential people in the room.
Of course, there were some who thought she did not deserve her position, but she suspected there would always be some who resented her, and if she did not stand up for herself, or if Sebastian did not stand up for her, then they would feel justified in speaking out against her.
Margaret was one of those people.
To Eleanor’s relief, she kept her distance for the remainder of the evening, only glaring from afar, and no doubt whispering poison in people’s ears. But Eleanor forced herself not to think too much about that.
The second thing she discovered about herself was that she was, in her soul, an impatient woman. Much as she enjoyed the talking and the dancing and the lavish dinner that they attended, she could not wait to escape so she might discover whatever Sebastian had in store for her.
The third was that she must be very, very wicked indeed for her to find the thought of physical aggression so very appealing.
The fourth was that she no longer cared about what others might consider wicked. If she were to ask Sebastian, she suspected she would be told not to be so silly.
By the time they finally bade their host goodnight and returned to their carriage for the long ride back to the manor, she could hardly suppress her excitement. Sebastian, too, seemed rather more eager than usual. He had not left the ball early, but he had certainly not lingered the way some did. And in the darkness of the carriage, his eyes glittered as he took her in.
“Eleanor,” he said once they were on their way, the coach so finely sprung she could hardly feel the unevenness of the road. This would be a smooth ride and would give them leave to do whatever they chose.
“Sebastian,” she replied, breathless. Her excitement felt as though it fizzed around her body, irrepressible and compelling. Her chest felt as though it was expanding, and she found her hands shaking a trifle as she tucked them in her lap. “Have I made you very angry?”
“You have.” His tone was sharp, and she shivered under the feel of it, a whip cracking across her skin, the pain exquisite.
“Then will you show me what my punishment is to be?”
“You are entirely too eager, my girl.” He turned to her, tipping her head back so he could see her throat. His fingers briefly closed about it. “I can feel your pulse,” he murmured. “Thrumming. Are you afraid of me?”
“N-no.” She answered instinctively, not giving herself room to doubt.
