The Unchaste

Until Then

Though the bindings had been gotten divested off, Delilah's cloud-ridden mind couldn't comprehend to leave the hard, cold chair yet or to make any motion that demonstrated her extent of agitation. It wasn't the lack of desire for it in fact, but the lack of recognition of this desire. She was as blank as a blind bat baby.

If Richard understood her vacuous perplexity any better than her, he gave little indication of it. He read her with a bemused frown_ at least bemused it seemed to Delilah_ and watched her closely, as if he knew what was to come next.

Did he indeed?

She could only wonder and awe at his prophetic tendencies, but that prospect was grasped out of her loose fist the moment Norris knocked slightly at the door, to present the duke with a towel and canister of water.

Delilah, catching sight of him, sneered at Norris and her former captive threw at her a rampant look of deep disgust in return.

Delilah left her chair to hit him, gouge his eyes out maybe or yank off a handful_ no less!_ of those shiny, curly fair hairs. Halfway reaching him, a hand snaking around her waist fixated her to the spot and Delilah was tugged back into warm curvature another body behind her.

Norris was gazing at her, enmity and taunt at her helplessness flickering in his eyes and that drove Delilah to the edge.

"Why, you damned cock-less swine...." The torrent of her extremely selective blaspheme gave Norris a sudden shock, then color, then horror and Delilah watched with satisfaction as the smug look drained out of his face. "...and I will chop off your tiny feeler next time you even flaunt your butt-like mou-mmmph."

Again, a hand tightly clasping around her lips silenced her oaths to muffled jumbles of noise as she tried to haul herself out of that hold. It was next to impossible.

"Thank you, Norris." Lord Richard's civil voice addressed the goon from behind her. "I think I will have you dismissed for the day now if you will please see the fire made in my room."

"Sir." The man obeyed his master with a suave bow and exited the room, though not before casting a look of haughty distaste at Delilah. The audacity of him, of his look traumatized Delilah. It angered her intoxicated head to an extent she wanted to throw the chair at him, angered her more than it should have.

She raged against the warm restraints chaining her until her restraint whipped her around and made her face him.

Him.

It still took the breath away from her, the shadows behind those bright, blue eyes. The frostiness concealed by that warm gaze. Took her so long to understand what he masked. Took her so long to know that he always had secrets.

He would always have secrets, no matter how close they came.

It horrified her. Awed her. Made her despise him. Made her desire him more.

"Miss Eves." He chastised softly. "No more battles tonight."

He removed his hand from her mouth and Delilah wisely kept quiet. Later, she promised herself. Later, when she was less dreary ...

He made her sit again, and offered the warm, wetted towel to her. She took it, wiped her tear-traced face, then, held it to her nose and mouth at once by mistake, too long for her own good_ nearly choking herself to helpless death till he wriggled the fabric out from between her stiff fingers and sighed at her... absurdity?

Absurdity, her foot! Why could Delilah see two Richard Winter right now? One was enough, for Hades' sake!

Two and plural, he unnerved her. One real, another ghost.