How does he see so much? How does he know exactly where my defenses are weakest?
“I’ve learned that wanting things often leads to disappointment,” she said carefully.
“And I’ve learned that not wanting things leads to a half-life of mere existence.” His amber eyes burned with intensity. “The question is which risk you’re willing to take.”
The risk of wanting versus the risk of staying safe. The risk of trusting versus the risk of remaining alone.
Before she could formulate an answer, the sound of running footsteps echoed through the corridor, followed by Melanie’s voice calling urgently for her father.
“Papa! Papa, come quickly! Leah’s found something in the library that you absolutely must see!”
The moment shattered like glass, leaving them standing on opposite sides of a chasm neither seemed quite ready to cross.
Saved by a twelve-year-old. How appropriate.
“We should…” Sybil gestured vaguely toward the door.
“Yes.” But the Duke didn’t move, his eyes still fixed on her face as though trying to memorize every detail. “This conversation isn’t finished.”
No. It isn’t.
But as they made their way toward whatever crisis Leah had discovered in the library, Sybil couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.
For the girls. For herself. For whatever this thing between them might become if she were brave enough to reach for it.
The question was whether she could find that courage before fear made the decision for her.
Again.
Chapter Ten
“Finding everything you need?”
The leather-bound volume slipped from Sybil’s fingers the moment she heard the deep, familiar voice behind her.
Oh, blast.
She spun around so quickly that several books tumbled from the mahogany shelf, landing with soft thuds on the Persian carpet. The Duke stood in the doorway of his vast library, one shoulder leaning against the frame with casual elegance that made her pulse skip traitorously.
“Your Grace!” The words came out higher than intended. “I didn’t expect… That is, Rosalie said I might?—”
“Breathe, Lady Sybil.” His amber eyes held a glint of amusement that made her want to throw something at his perfectly sculptedface. “You’re not trespassing. This is my library, and you’re my guest.”
My guest.Notourguest. The possessive pronoun sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach.
“Of course.” She bent to retrieve the fallen books, grateful for the excuse to look away from those penetrating eyes. “I was simply looking for medical journals. Rosalie mentioned you had an extensive collection, and I thought?—”
“The Mysteries of Udolpho?”
Sybil froze, her hand halfway to a particularly heavy tome on anatomy. “I beg your pardon?”
The Duke had moved closer—dangerously closer—and was now examining the book she’d dropped. The gothic novel lay open to a rather dramatic illustration of a swooning heroine in the arms of a dark, brooding hero.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
“Fascinating medical text,” he observed, his voice rich with barely contained laughter. “I had no idea Mrs. Radcliffe had studied anatomy so extensively.”
Heat flooded Sybil’s cheeks. “I was merely… that is, it was simply…”
