“But—”
“Please,” he said again, sharper this time. “I cannot tell you how near you are, please, back up.”
She did so, increasing the distance between her and the fireplace, though she had been quite certain of her position. Surely, she was in no danger of the flames? Isobel had to have placed a fire screen in front of it too, for Charity had heard it slide into position earlier.
“Wait… oh, God’s wounds, you are not wearing anything.”
“Well, Iamwearing something,” she said with a small laugh. “It is called a night shift.”
Judging by the footsteps she’d heard, he turned around, putting his back toward her.
“Am I that repulsive to look at, eh?”
“Oh, come off it. You cannot see yourself in that sheer fabric, or you would be doing the same.”
“Describe it to me then?”
“Describe it? I can hardly bring myself to stare at you when you are in your nightgown.”
“You wished to stare, did you?” For some reason, the thought made Charity feel heated. She ran her fingers over the sleeves of her gown, wondering what she looked like in the lacy material.
“You arenothelping.” The duke’s voice was sharp. “I came here to be a gentleman. I remember you said you could not sleep alone, so I was going to escort you to the servants’ quarters to sleep there. I am hardly having gentlemanly thoughts with you dressed like that.”
A thrill passed up her spine. Charity held a hand to her lips as she thought of what was going on in his mind.
“…What are you thinking?”
“Charity! I thought I told you I was trying to be a gentleman.” He must have turned around again by the sounds of his footsteps. He had also closed the door. She lifted a hand and pointed toward it with raised eyebrows, silently asking why he did that with a smirk on her lips. “Well, I can hardly risk someone else seeing you like this, can I?”
“The perfect gentleman,” she said with playful sarcasm.
“You really need to put more clothes on.” He was walking around the chamber now.
“Why must I? I was going to go to bed soon.”
She felt something drop over her shoulders and she stumbled in surprise. It was a heavy woolen shawl, so thick it must have completely enshrouded her body, yet he hadn’t released the shawl. His fingers still rested on her shoulders and the tops of her arms, as if he was struggling to release her.
“Your Grace?” she whispered, angling her head to the side.
He was so near now; the comforting scent of his cologne was even stronger than before.
“Hmm?” he murmured. She could practically feel him behind her. Was his cheek just an inch from hers? Was it even closer?
Wait… are those his lips so close to my neck?
Her breathing stuttered with anticipation, for the want of another stolen kiss, a little like the one they had shared the night before, yet somehow more… exciting.
“God’s wounds, Charity. What are you doing to me?” His voice was quiet as he released her shoulders and stepped back.
Whether he was going to kiss her neck or not, she had no idea now, but clearly, he was tempted by her. It made her core feel heated and a rush of wetness spread between her legs, so suddenly that she turned to face him in surprise.
“Do me a favor,” he whispered and stepped toward her, pulling on the ends of the thick shawl. “Hold this shut.” He tugged it across her body and then urged her hands to do the same.
“Is this because you do not like me this way? Or like it too much?” she murmured in a small voice.
“Stop toying with me,” he said, humor in his tone.
She was tempted to release the shawl entirely, just to see what he would say next.
