Heat rose in her cheeks, but she didn't look away. "What manner?"
"As though you wish for me to kiss you."
The directness of it startled her, but only for a moment. Something about the evening—the intimacy of sharing a meal he'd prepared with his own hands, the stories he'd told, the glimpses of the man behind the ducal mask—had emboldened her.
"I do," she said simply.
Dominic's eyebrows rose slightly, but his expression remained maddeningly controlled. "You do what, precisely?"
June narrowed her eyes, recognizing the game he played. He wanted her to be explicit, to voice her desires without ambiguity. "You know perfectly well what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't," he countered, though the curve of his mouth betrayed his amusement. "I'm a simple man, June. I require clear instruction."
"Simple?" she scoffed. "You are many things, Dominic Blake, but simple is not among them."
"In matters of desire, I assure you, I am utterly uncomplicated." He shifted closer on the chaise, his thigh pressing against hers through the layers of their clothing. "Tell me what you want, June."
His nearness made it difficult to think clearly, but June refused to surrender so easily. "And if I prefer to show rather than tell?"
"I'm afraid that won't do." His hand came up to brush a stray curl from her cheek, the touch feather-light yet somehow burning. "You see, I made a rule. You must explicitly invite me to kiss you."
June caught her breath at his touch, at the heat in his eyes that belied his composed demeanor. "That seems an unnecessarily strict rule."
"On the contrary." His thumb traced the curve of her jaw, coming to rest just below her lower lip. "I find that clarity prevents all manner of misunderstandings."
She held his gaze, her heart beating a wild rhythm against her ribs. This was a moment of choice, of stepping deliberately toward intimacy rather than having it thrust upon them by circumstance. Unlike their hasty marriage, this would be entered into with full awareness, full intent.
"Kiss me, Dominic," she said, the words emerging with more confidence than she felt. "I want you to kiss me."
Something fierce and triumphant flashed in his eyes. "I thought you'd never ask," he murmured, and then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was nothing like their previous encounters—not the desperate, stolen moment at Stone Manor that had led to their marriage. This was deliberate, thorough, a claiming and an offering all at once.
June's hands found their way to his shoulders as his arms encircled her, drawing her against the solid wall of his chest. She tasted the exotic spices of their dinner on his lips, felt the heat of the Damascene pepper bloom between them like a living thing. It sparked across her skin, making her gasp against his mouth.
Dominic took advantage of her parted lips to deepen the kiss in a possessive caress that sent liquid fire racing through her veins. The spice on his lips intensified the sensation so excessively that she had to pull away, burning.
He smiled, a slow devilish one, and it made June's heart skip a beat.
"Did I not warn you about the lasting heat of Damascene pepper?" he asked, his voice rough.
June could only stare at him, her lips still burning from his kiss, her blood singing in her veins. The fire from his mouth had kindled something wild and wonderful within her.
And at that moment, June knew with absolute certainty: she would not let him die. Not when they had only just begun to discover the fire between them.
Twenty-Nine
June slipped from the castle's side entrance, pulling her woolen cloak tightly around her shoulders. Dominic was still in his study, buried in estate ledgers and correspondence.
She'd considered disturbing him—the memory of their spice-laden kiss still burning on her lips—but had decided against it. The man worked with such intensity, such purpose. Besides, she had her own purpose today: the ruins he'd mentioned during their ride, the original Blake family castle that had stood for centuries before falling to time and war.
Her steps quickened as she followed the path he'd shown her, winding through a small copse of trees that shielded the grounds from the harshest northern winds. The kiss they'd shared in the salon replayed in her mind, sending warmth through her despite the chill air. That deliberate request, the words she'd never imagined herself saying to a man:Kiss me, Dominic. I want you to kiss me.
"And he certainly did," she murmured to herself, a smile tugging at her lips.
Since arriving at Icemere, something had shifted between them. The forced marriage of convenience was evolving into something else—something neither of them had anticipated. June wasn't yet ready to name it, this tender, fragile thing growing between them.
The path curved around an ancient oak tree, and suddenly the ruins stood before her. June stopped, arrested by the sight. What had once been a grand castle now stood as a skeletal monument to time's passage—crumbling walls and archways reaching toward the sky like the fingers of a hand begging remembrance. Ivy clung to the weathered stones, nature slowly reclaiming what man had built.
