“Ashbey. Ash, if you wish.”
Her fingers cut into his arms. “I am deeply sorry,Your Grace, but I cannot. I want to, but I cannot. You have placed me in your debt, and to acquiesce now...” She shook her head no. “I can’t. It would not be right.”
The power in his body coalesced.Take her anyway. That is what she really wants.He silenced the command. Passion—true passion—came only as a gift.
He used every ounce of his willpower to step away from the comfort of her heat. “You are making a mistake.”
“No,” she countered. “Though I am certain I will regret my decision.”
“Regret,” he repeated, “is a bitter pill.”
“So is loss.”
Loss?He frowned. “I would take nothing from you.”
“You would take my most valued possession—my self-respect.”
“Fidelity forever. I do not make promises I cannot keep.” He could see he would not prevail if he persisted. Not tonight. He retrieved her hat. “When you change your mind, send word through Marie.”
She hung her reticule on her wrist. Its tassels danced as he retied the ribbon. She was trembling from head to toe.
Good.
He unlocked and opened the door.
“Duke,” she acknowledged with a nod.
“Lady Stone.” He bowed.
She held her breath, and then turned to stride through the shop. At the door, she paused.
If she looked back, he would win.
The bell trilled.
With one hand still on the handle, she glanced over her shoulder. And then, she sighed.
The serpent inside him coiled, in preparation for the proper time to strike.
Chapter Five
Alicia’s virtue would have had a fighting chance...if the Admiralty had not mistakenly sent her the countess’s letters.
The packet had been waiting when she returned from Marie’s. A packet full of sheaves addressed to Octavius from the countess. And a single, unfinished letter, addressed to the countess and written in Octavius’s familiar hand.
A wiser woman would have left the packet untouched.
The words within the letters were not meant for her eyes. Even Octavius would never have been so cruel. She read them nonetheless—line after excruciating line, pulsing with love that was somehow both prurient and pure. Mutual joy lived within the lines, between them, even—reverence for each other’s bodies, infinite respect for each other’s souls, and a solemn commitment to the child their love had delivered into this world.
Alicia had passed a finger over Octavius’s signature, hearing the words of the vicious patron—the countess would have made the admiral the perfect wife if the barren shrew he married had the grace to die.
She nearly choked.
The whole world thought her worthless. The young woman had wished her dead. She dropped the letter onto her bed. She was, as she’d always been, unwanted.
Though not entirely.
Not anymore.
