He still wanted her. Intensely.
But he needed something else more.
When he’d decided to come to the Lyon’s Den tonight, he hadn’t been completely certain what he intended. Discovering that Miss Dickson was the woman in the mask had been shocking and unsettling, but as soon as he’d stepped into this room, it didn’t matter.
Knowing her identity didn’t change what he wanted. In this room, he’d discovered the freedom to experience what it felt like to give himself into someone else’s hands. All his life he’d been weighed down by expectations and obligations and responsibilities that required him to consider the dukedom, the family legacy, the opinions of everyone but himself. He’d been so buried beneath duty he barely knew himself.
It was a terrifying revelation.
And though he wasn’t certain how this time with her was meant to address any of that, he knew with a soul-deep confidence that it felt right. Perhaps it was because he knew it was momentary. He knew he could stop it at any time. Walk out of that room. Never come back.
He wouldn’t.
He needed this. This time when he had no decisions to make, no one to take care of or to manage, no authority…
In the moments before her arrival, as he’d waited on his knees for the first indication of her presence, he’d realized something else, as well. Despite his posture, his readiness, his acceptance…there had still been a thread of resistance within him. A thin line of tension and denial.
It had felt wrong. As if he were trying to tighten his grip on something he was meant to release. Something he’d been holding onto with subtle desperation from the very beginning of these visits. It was a deeply ingrained expectation of control.
As soon as he’d been able to identify it, he’d let it go.
His focus, which had been searching the shadows for the first sight of her, had immediately softened and redirected to the floor in front of him. His hands had relaxed on his thighs and his breath had evened to a steady rhythm as he gave himself permission to truly surrender.
In doing so, he felt as though he’d been released from a cage and could finally fully embrace everything he was. Every secret craving and curiosity and desire was his to explore. And the most fascinating part was that all he had to do was follow her instruction. He didn’t have to choose or analyze or study and decide. He did not have to exert his will or make insistences or force anything into the shape he required. Under her authority, his only responsibility was to do as she commanded.
And damn him if he didn’t bloody love where she forced him to go.
He belonged to her.
Charlotte Dickson.
She could’ve had a very different reaction to his behavior at the ball earlier. She could have avoided this room, denied everything, refused to ever speak with him again.
But here she was.
Did that mean she wanted this time with him as much as he did?
Did she do this for others?
The thought rippled through him in a chilling wave of jealousy.
“Mon grand,” her voice was a dark whisper as she took a step closer to him. If he wanted, he could reach out and touch her.Slide his hand up her lace-covered arm. Press his palm over her beating heart. Wrap his arm around her to bring her body to his.
He didn’t. He remained still, eyes downcast.
“What has upset you? Speak freely,” she added.
It didn’t even occur to him to be surprised that she knew.
Though she’d said he could speak freely, he recalled her prior dictates on what he was and wasn’t allowed to do in this room.
“May I ask you a question, Madame?”
There was a long pause of silence. No doubt she worried if he might pry into her true identity. He wouldn’t. The guise they adhered to was too important to him. But he had to know.
“Do you meet with other men like this?”
Her body stiffened. Then she started to circle around him. Whenever she did that, it set him slightly off balance, made his reach out with the senses available to him to pinpoint her location, set his skin to humming with the anticipation as he wondered where and if she’d touch him.
