“I made a promise to you, Celine,” he said, his voice low. His eyes locked onto hers, intense and unguarded for a moment. “No matter how big a cad or rake you think I am, I don’t break promises.”
His words carried weight, his vow to her—a marriage of freedom—clashing with the pull he felt, the question of why he never lingered with others left unspoken.
Her breath hitched, her eyes searching his, the morning light catching the sheen in them.
“A promise,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her bonnet’s ribbons fluttering in the breeze. “I… I want to believe you. But it’s hard, Rhys. This… Us…”
Her admission was soft, her use of his name intimate, improper, sending a shiver through him.
He stepped closer, his boots crunching. His smile returned, softer now. “Hard?” he said softly, his gaze steady. “You’re no stranger to hard things, Celine. You stormed into my study, after all, and I don’t remember attempting to ravage you like a wild animal.”
His teasing was light, but his eyes held hers.
She laughed, a small, shaky sound. Her blush faded, and her eyes lit up. “That was different,” she argued, taking a step forward, her reticule swinging. “I wasn’t your wife back then.”
Her words carried a hint of her old spark, but her uncertainty lingered, her role as a duchess a weight she couldn’t yet carry. Perhaps it felt as strange as the new emotions rising within him.
Rhys’s heart swelled. “My wife, yes,” he agreed, offering his arm again. “But you’re still the hellion I met at the Ashford ball, and I know better than to mess with her. Come, let’s find your stationer’s. I’ll keep my teasing to a minimum—maybe.”
His grin was roguish, but his eyes held a promise, the unanswered questions about his past, his reluctance to open upthat almost mirrored hers. Even though her presence made it harder to hide, the shadows of his past clung to him.
Celine paused, then slowly took his arm, her face softening as her hesitation slowly faded away, her gloved hand light on his sleeve, her touch sparking warmth.
“Good,” she said softly, a faint smile breaking through.
She fell into step with him as they continued walking, the cobblestones stretching ahead, her silence less heavy. But the tension between them thrummed still, so electrifying that it shook him to the core when she uttered her next words.
“So what happens if I decide I want you to fulfill your husbandly duties?”
Chapter Ten
“Are you asking that in earnest, Celine?” Rhys’s eyes fell on her like a lodestone, and her breath came in slightly uneven gasps.
“It is a…” She grasped desperately at anything that would come to mind. “A… hypothetical question.”
“Oh?” He cocked a dark eyebrow. “It did not sound like that at all.”
“Are you going to answer?”
Celine’s heart thudded as they walked arm-in-arm toward the stationer’s.
Rhys stopped walking and turned to face her. “My answer would depend on your motive for the question, Celine.”
“Then I wish to know,” she replied. “What if I decide I wish for you to fulfill your husbandly duties?”
The grin that spread across his lips was slow, purposeful, and so dashing that it made her knees weak. “Then your wish shall be my command.”
Celine held her breath as a warmth so foreign spread through her. His smile widened, and she had to quickly compose herself.
Lifting her chin, she said, “There, now. My curiosity is satisfied.”
“Then shall we?” He offered his arm again, and she took it.
The scent of fresh bread and blooming hawthorn hung in the air, mingling with the faint mist of the early morning. It was a calming scent, but it did little to soothe her nerves.
Her straw bonnet shielded her flushed cheeks, but it couldn’t hide the turmoil in her mind.
What was I thinking?
