Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(50)

Something was not right. She had no desire to flee; if anything, she wanted to burrow deeper, to surround herself in the safety of this embrace. The smell of leather and musk surrounded her—and that something else, a scent she was coming to know only too well.

Duldon.

Her shoulders tensed and then relaxed, only to tense again.

“And where have you been hiding, my pet? I didn’t think you were one to sneak into the pantries. I gave you more credit than to go to such extremes.”

How to explain? He clearly thought she’d been hiding from him and she wasn’t sure that she wished him to know the truth. It seemed unlikely that much good would come of it. She didn’t know what Duldon’s response would be, but…

“Let us head back to the ballroom and I will lead you in a single sedate waltz, before freeing you to twirl to your heart’s desire. I shall take great pleasure in watching you and I will not mar the evening any further with demands and talk of marriage.” He pulled back and smiled down at her—and then his face froze, his gaze locking on her bosom, on her bodice. Her own gaze dropped, following his to the large tear leaving shards of lilac lace hanging down over the golden silk of her gown.

When had that happened? Temple must have torn her gown, but she had not realized.

Holding back a shiver, her eyes rose back to Duldon’s and met his cold stare.



Without a word he pushed past her and stalked back into the empty pantry, his search far more thorough than Lord Temple’s had been. If somebody larger than a loaf of bread had been hiding there Duldon would have found him.

“Who were you with? Where did your companion run off to?” His voice dripped with ice.

She blinked. He thought…“No one. I was by myself.”

“Try again.” His gaze focused on her ripped bodice.

“Truly. I was by myself.”

“And did you rip your own gown? Why do I doubt that? I warned you that there would be punishment if you tried kissing other men.”

“But I didn’t. I might have—but I didn’t. I didn’t kiss anyone.”

He stepped closer and his presence surrounded her. “Tell me the truth, Bliss. Things are always better if you tell the truth.”

He was infuriating. She was telling the truth, or at least some of it. “I did not kiss anyone.” She said each word slowly and with care.

“And did you rip your dress? Perhaps you caught it on a pot handle when you were trying to hide from me.”

“I was not hiding from you—at least not then.” There, she’d told him a little bit more. Perhaps he would be content.

He inched closer, placed a hand under her chin, and turned her face up to his. “Then whom were you hiding from?” His other hand reached up and stroked her breast just above the tear. A frisson ran straight from his touch, slid down between her legs. His voice gentled slightly, but she would not be fooled.

“Does it matter? Nothing happened besides a bit of torn lace. I can slip up to the retiring room and have it fixed within a moment.”



Two of his fingers slipped into her bodice while his thumb still fingered the torn edge. “And if I say it does matter? Who sent you fleeing into the pantries?”

To tell him would be disaster. She recognized the heat she saw burning in his eyes, knew what would happen if he discovered Lord Temple had taken liberties. “And I say it does not matter. Nothing you can do will help. All you can do is bring me disgrace. Some man heard a rumor and decided to see if it was true. Can you blame him? And after our night at Madame Rouge’s it is closer to the truth than I would like. Let it be.”

The fingers at her chin suddenly pressed deep and for a moment she feared they would leave a bruise. She could feel the tension that ran through him. She’d lived with her brothers long enough to understand the masculine desire to beat something to a pulp. Duldon was experiencing that feeling now.

“Truly it does not matter,” she tried to explain.

His fingers gripped hard again, making her shiver. “Did somebody, some man, touch you against your will?”

How to answer that? Was there an acceptable answer? “He merely took me by surprise. You have touched me when I did not agree.”

His hand dropped from her face and he stepped back. “But did I ever make you run from me, not because you did not wish to talk, but because you were afraid of what I would do?”

“No. I have never been afraid of you—except that you can make me want things I should not. I am more afraid of myself than of you.” That was more than she had meant to say.



“And this other man? Did you feel the same way?” There was iron in his tone, and she knew there was no correct answer except the truth.

“No. I did not like it when he touched me. I have never run from your touch and I did run from his.”

“Who is he?”

“Please, Duldon, it is not all his fault. I was thinking about kissing him. I do believe I need to experience more. Perhaps I led him on, made him believe that I wanted him to grab me, to pinch me.”

His face froze at her words, his eyes narrowed, his lips hard. “Did you make him believe that you wished to experiment with him?”

She thought a moment, dredged her soul for the truth. “No, I did not—at least no more than every girl at every dance does. I may have flirted. I may have pretended he was more interesting than he was. I did not ask him to grab me.”