“Is it truly so unimaginable?” He shrugged on his waistcoat, wandering closer to her as he fastened the buttons. “As the gown seems quite intricate, I have no qualms with lending my assistance.”
“I think I can manage on my own, thank you.”
“I beg to differ. What is the matter, Amelia? Are you afraid of me?”
“Of course not,” she answered quickly, too quickly.
Gideon tilted his head to the side as he regarded her. “In that case, come here.”
Amelia stood her ground. He was genuinely uncertain whether she would give in to his command or not. He could see the battle in her eyes, the meek lady he’d first met clashing with the defiant nature he could see slowly peeking through.
At last, she approached him slowly, as if she were approaching a predator. Gideon studied her at length, making her squirm under the force of his stare. When she was close enough, he reached out a hand to touch the ends of her russet curls.
“Your hair is already styled,” he observed. “That’s good. All that is left is to help you dress, and then we should be ready to go.” He stepped back, giving her space, and he could have sworn he caught a soft sigh of relief from her. Smiling to himself, Gideon went over to fetch the dress and brought it back to where she stood. He stared at her, raising an expectant brow.
Amelia frowned at him. “Surely you do not expect me to get undressed right here?”
“I do,” he affirmed. Then snapped his fingers as if he’d only just remembered something. “Ah, you need help undressing, don’t you? Please, turn around and allow me.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer, watching with amusement as she stepped away from him and tried to undo the strings behind her by herself. She was quite adept at it too, to his surprise, managing to twist her body away from his gaze as she pulled the laces loose. Clutching the dress against her bosom to keep it from falling to the ground, she extended her hand over her shoulder. “Give it to me,” she said, with her back to him.
Gideon rolled his eyes before closing the gap between them in one long stride. She gasped loudly as he took her wrists and pulled them down by her side, though he realized that it didn’t take nearly as much force as he’d anticipated. Her face was asbright as a tomato, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as her dress pooled at her feet.
“There is no need to be modest,” he purred against her ear. “You are a vision, Amelia. Surely you have heard that before.”
He could have sworn the nape of her neck turned red. She shook her head, still refusing to raise her gaze. “I have not.”
She didn't verbally resist, but her body tensed a little as he lifted the new dress and allowed the fabric to cascade down her curves. Once the gown settled around her body, Gideon half-expected her to move away and lace it up herself. But she stayed perfectly still.
An impulse made him inch closer to her. While his underlying intention was to make her uncomfortable enough to push her towards annulling their marriage—there was something else driving him to rest his hand possessively on her waist. A shiver rippled through her slight frame when he dipped his head closer to her, his breath brushing against her neck.
Amelia did not stiffen in the way he’d expected her to. Instead, a slight tilt of her head beckoned a subtle invitation. At least Gideon interpreted it as such, and he inched even closer until his groin was pressed against her soft derrière.
His hand remained at her waist, feeling the light boning under her dress. He adjusted the gown gently around her midriff, but he knew the truth. He wanted to feel her, to touch her, to bask in the lavender scent of hers that always drove him insane. Gideonallowed his hands to drift down her waist until they cupped her hips.
Amelia leaned into him. Was she aware of the effect she had on him? Gideon couldn’t be sure, but he was beyond caring. He didn’t think he could stop himself if he tried. His hands, bold and exploratory, traveled up her body, until they touched the underside of her bosom. She shuddered, arching her back ever so slightly. It only served to press her rear tighter against his groin, only served to make him lose more of his self-control. She would certainly feel his hardness beneath his breeches.
Gideon brushed his hand over her bosom—against the peaked nipples poking through the thin fabric of her gown—but he had the good sense not to linger. He knew he was playing with fire. He trailed his hands back to her hips, then pulled away with every ounce of strength in his body. His mind heady with lustful thoughts, he tried focusing on tying the strings behind her dress instead.
A quiet tension settled between them, neither one of them addressing what just happened. Gideon tried to focus on the task at hand—driving her away from him.
“I trust you understand the role you’re expected to play tonight,” he stated, a hint of command in his tone.
Amelia turned her head slightly to the side, her voice carrying a husky undertone that she had failed to rid of, “What exactly do you mean?”
Hearing her speak only drove the blood from his brain. Gideon gritted his teeth, trying to concentrate.
“You are the Duchess of Stanhope. I have a reputation to uphold and, as you must very well know, you now represent the Dukedom as well.”
“Don’t worry. I have no intention of unveiling your secret tonight.”
Gideon clenched his jaw. He didn’t like being reminded of the carrot she was dangling over his head. “You know nothing about who I am or what I do, Amelia.”
“Then tell me?” This time, she twisted almost fully to look up at him from beneath long lashes. “Why do you hide behind the Masked Rogue?”
“How do you know about the Masked Rogue?” he countered.
“I thought you would have figured it out by now,” she whispered. “How… disappointing.”
