The words were spoken with such conviction, such certainty, that June might have believed them had she not seen the conflict raging in his eyes. This was not the casual dismissal of years past. This was a man fighting a battle with himself, a battle he seemed to be losing with every passing moment.
"Why?" June challenged, her voice steadier than she felt. "I am not saving myself for anyone else."
Something broke in his expression then—restraint giving way to need, caution surrendering to desire. With a sound that was half groan, half surrender, Dominic lowered his head and claimed her lips with his own.
June had been kissed before—chaste, brief encounters that had left her wondering what all the fuss was about. Nothing had prepared her for this. Dominic's lips moved against hers with a hunger that matched the storm raging inside her, ignitingsensations she had never imagined possible. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her firmly against the solid warmth of his body. June's hands found their way to his shoulders, then his hair, her fingers tangling in the dark strands as if to anchor herself against the tide threatening to sweep her away.
This wasn't a kiss—it was a revelation. A claiming. A promise made without words.
Her heart pounded so fiercely she wondered if he could feel it where their chests pressed together. Her knees weakened, but Dominic's arms held her securely, as if he had anticipated this very reaction. His mouth moved over hers with increasing urgency, teaching her a language of desire she had never spoken before.
June melted into him, surrendering to the intensity of feelings too powerful to resist. She had imagined this moment countless times, but reality surpassed every fantasy. The solid strength of him against her, the taste of him on her lips, the small sounds of pleasure that escaped him when she responded to his kiss—all of it combined into something so overwhelming she could scarcely breathe.
And yet she never wanted it to end.
"What is going on here?" a voice called from behind them.
Eighteen
June leaped backward from Dominic's embrace, her lips still burning from his kiss, her heart hammering so violently she feared it might tear through her chest. August stood in the doorway, his silhouette rigid with fury. The room suddenly felt airless, as if all oxygen had been consumed by the flames of mortification rising in her cheeks.
"August," she gasped, her voice barely audible above the roaring in her ears.
Her brother stepped into the room with purposeful strides, moving to stand between her and Dominic. His right hand hovered near the hilt of his sword—a decorative piece for the evening's festivities, but suddenly appearing quite capable of its intended purpose. June pressed her palm against the cool wall, grateful for its solidity as the floor seemed determined to shift beneath her feet.
"Blake," August's voice cut through the silence like a blade, "I thought better of you."
Dominic straightened to his full height, his expression impossible to read in the half-shadows. "August?—"
"She is my sister." August took another step forward, forcing Dominic to retreat slightly. "My sister, Blake. Not some opera dancer to be toyed with and discarded when you tire of her."
"I am aware of who she is," Dominic replied, his voice dangerously quiet.
June gathered her scattered wits enough to speak. "August, please. This is not what?—"
"Not what it appears?" Her brother turned to her, his eyes flashing. "I saw enough, June. More than enough."
The humiliation burned so hot June thought she might combust on the spot. She had never been caught in such a compromising position—had never been in such a position at all until moments ago. And yet, despite the shame flooding through her, she couldn't bring herself to regret the kiss.
Dominic moved, drawing August's attention back to him. "This is between me and you, Vestiere. Leave your sister out of it."
"Out of it?" August barked a harsh laugh. "She's at the very center of it now, thanks to your selfishness."
Dominic's jaw tightened. "You know why matrimony is not right for me," he said, his voice low enough that June had to strain to hear. "I will not doom a poor soul to such a fate."
What fate?June's mind raced. What could he possibly mean?
August's laugh was bitter and sharp. "Your reasons matter little now. She's my sister, and I won't tolerate another scandal under my roof." He stepped closer to Dominic, their faces only inches apart. "Besides, you'll be dead soon. What have you to lose?"
The words struck June like a physical blow.Dead soon?Her eyes flew to Dominic's face, searching for some hint, some explanation, but his expression remained carefully blank, giving away nothing.
"August, what are you talking about?" June demanded, pushing away from the wall. "Why would Dominic be?—"
"It doesn't concern you, June," August cut her off, never taking his eyes from Dominic's face.
"Doesn't concern me?" Her voice rose despite her efforts to control it. "You just said he would be dead soon. I think that very much concerns me, particularly as you're now discussing matrimony!"
Neither man answered her. They remained locked in some silent battle of wills that excluded her entirely, though she appearedto be its subject. June's frustration mounted, pushing aside her embarrassment.
