Again.Electrified.
Every tendon in his extremities had gone taught. A distinct vibration buzzed through his veins. Dampness sprouted beneath his collar and in his palms.
He trod purposefully onward.
He should not have touched her. Held her palm in his own. Breathed in her light, seductive scent as he caressed her wrist with the pad of his thumb.
A night’s rest had not cured him of his lust after all.
To preserve his sanity—and his promise to Ash—he’d ridden outside the carriage. And yet, at first opportunity, he’d taken any excuse to touch her. And each, successive touch had amplified parts of himself he’d thought he’d silenced.
Her direct, clear gaze had sparked lightness and hope, as if he was nearing the end of a long and difficult journey and all he need do to reach a glorious destination was quicken his pace. The reeling feeling had caused him to drop his guard.
No wonder she’dseenhim, then.
His boots crunched in the gravel.
What had possessed him to place that wager?An actual penny for your thoughts.
He’d guessed that she’d heard his hesitation. Guessed that she’d seen and felt his devotion to the children. He’d assumed that’s what she’d tell him. And, so, a little wager. Nothing, really. A penny for prolonged contact. He hadn’t expected her to bare his soul.
Friends close. Secrets Closer. Stay closed, coiled, and ready to strike.
“Your Grace,” she called. “I apologize?—”
The uncharacteristic panic in her voice stopped him.
Damnation.
Hewas at fault, not she. She, who had so much to lose and who—somewhat involuntarily—had placed her safekeeping in his hands. Which was what she’d done, he was certain. Nothing else but her jeopardy would have caused Alicia to make such an abrupt suggestion and Ash to issue his dire warning, as Ash had all but confirmed.
He’d been unfair. And to leave her thinking he was angry withherwas unjust. He stretched his lips into a brittle smile and then turned around.
“You’ve no need to apologize.” Measure by measure, his control returned. “I asked. You answered. It’s a rare person capable of honesty to a duke.”
“...Or a foolish one.” Her exertions had prettily flushed her cheeks.
“I see no fool.”
He gazed down into her eyes. Not deep green, but a shining peridot—light and wide and entirely focused on his own. Time suspended between what had been and what was to come. That they would know one another more deeply than either was prepared to admit seemed self-evident, an accomplished fact.
His heartbeat ratcheted up.
She lifted her still closed fist. “Take it back.”
Was she still breathless from the walk? Or was the same, internal tide that had so fully engulfed his spirit also dragging her, waterlogged and resisting?
“What I gave”—his words bubbled up—“I gave freely.”
“You didn’t.” She wet her lips. “I should know how to keep my thoughts to myself by now. I’m ashamed?—”
“You are angry with yourself?” he asked, surprised.
Her expression grew incredulous. “Of course.”
“Then you understand my own feelings.”
Her brows knit. “You’re not angry withme?”
