Reborn: The Duke's Obsession
Chapter 97 - Ninety Seven

Chapter 97: Chapter Ninety Seven

Eric’s fingers easily caught the woolen blanket, and he pulled it away from his eyes, a playful, challenging grin on his face. "Kill me?" he asked, his voice a low, amused rumble. "Why would you kill me, my dear Duchess?"

He stood up from the bed in one smooth, graceful motion and faced her. The small, rustic room suddenly felt much smaller with him standing so close. "If we are to be living together in such close quarters," he continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "then let us just be fair and see each other. It is the most logical solution." He looked at her chest then her figure, her lips and her eyes.

Delia gasped, her cheeks burning a bright red. "Eric Carson! What are you saying?" She instinctively crossed her arms around her chest, a protective gesture to shield herself from his teasing gaze and the scandalous suggestion.

He walked even closer to her, completely closing the small distance between them. He was so tall that he loomed over her, a warm and undeniably male presence. He lowered his head until their foreheads were gently touching. Delia’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel the warmth of his skin, see the flecks of gold light from the candle flame in his dark, intense eyes.

"I will bathe first, then," he whispered, his voice a soft, warm caress against her skin. The gentle command was his way of ending their playful fight, of claiming a small victory. He then walked away towards the bathing alcove. He stopped, then came back, a teasing look on his face.

"Are you sure you’re not going to look?" he asked, his grin widening. "Don’t you want to?"

"No!" Delia replied, flustered. "Why would I want to do that?"

She quickly left the spot where she had been standing, a place that still felt charged with the energy of his closeness, and went to the bed. She pulled the covers up, hiding herself from him, a silent and flustered retreat.

Eric smiled at her reaction. He then walked over to the side of the bathing alcove and took hold of something she hadn’t noticed before. With a soft rustle of heavy fabric, he pulled a thick, sturdy curtain across the opening, completely covering the bathing area from view.

Delia, hearing the sound, turned her head from where she was burrowed in the pillows. "Wait, what?" she said, her voice muffled.

Eric looked at her, his expression one of pure, innocent surprise. "You didn’t know this was here?" he asked.

She shook her head, the realization dawning on her. "No, I didn’t." Her innocent confusion quickly turned into a playful, indignant anger. She sat up, the covers falling away. She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. "So you knew that curtain was there this whole time, and you were still teasing me?"

"You pushed me down on the bed before I could tell you that the bathing area had a perfectly good curtain," Eric replied, his logic sound but his tone still full of amusement.

"Well..." Delia replied, her anger deflating as she remembered the moment she had boldly pushed him down and straddled him. The memory made her cheeks burn even hotter. "I... I apologize about that," she said, her voice small. " I shouldn’t have done that to you."

"No, no" Eric said, his voice turning soft and sincere. "There is no need to apologize. Actually, my heart skipped a beat when you did that." He then began to unbutton his shirt, his gaze still fixed on her. "Now, are you sure you don’t want to sneak just one little peak?" he teased one last time. "Or maybe run your fingers along some of the rough planes?"

Delia quickly went back under the covers, turning her back to him so she was facing the other side of the room. As she heard the sound of the curtain being pulled shut, she murmured under her breath, a small, private smile on her own lips, "What’s there to see that I haven’t already seen before?"

A short while later, Eric had finished taking his bath. He was dressed in a simple pair of soft cotton night trousers and a loose-fitting shirt. He stood by the bed, drying his damp hair with a towel, the clean, fresh scent of soap filling the small room. He looked down at the bed and saw the formidable barricade of pillows she had constructed down the very middle, a clear and undeniable line drawn between his side and hers.

He chuckled as he ran a hand through his damp hair, a fond, weary smile on his face. "Are you asleep?" he asked softly, but there was no response. "You are not going to take a bath?" Still, there was only the sound of her quiet, even breathing.

He walked around to her side of the bed. "Delia," he whispered. "My duchess. My love." She was breathing slowly, her face relaxed, her expression peaceful. She was truly enjoying her sleep. He watched her for a long moment, the rise and fall of her chest, the way her dark curls fanned out across the pillow.

"Nothing I can do, I guess," he whispered to himself.

With a quiet, decisive movement, he reached down and threw the pillows, her carefully constructed barricade, onto the floor. He then carefully, quietly, entered the bed, making sure not to disturb her. He didn’t touch her, he didn’t fill up the space. He just lay there on his back, a respectable distance away, watching her sleeping form in the soft candlelight.

"Goodnight, Delia, My Duchess." he said softly, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. "Let’s spend the whole day together tomorrow."

He reached over, extinguished the single candle on the bedside table, and the room was plunged into a comfortable, shared darkness. He closed his eyes and, for the second time in a very long time, fell asleep with a peaceful, happy smile on his face.