“We share that, at least.” His smile was rueful. Almost relieved. “Not menace, but, well, a place to begin.” He touched her cheek. “There now, was confiding in me so terrible?”
Ironic laughter bubbled up in her throat. “This from a man who told me he never reveals a secret, least of all his own?”
“Touché. We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”
The question, she decided as he was drawing her into the shadows and beyond the view of any of the workmen outside, was rhetorical.
“May I,” he started uncertainly, “...that is to say...I should like to...” He made a frustrated, growling sort of noise. “Devil take it, Mrs. Montrose, may I hold you?”
Could this be her arrogant duke?
She nodded by rote. “Iamfeeling rather unsteady.”
Tenderly, he gathered her into his arms. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, letting him cradle her so close she could not distinguish between his heartbeat and her own.
She did not need to use her fingertips to feel him in other ways, too—one, large hand warmed her hip, the other splayed against her back. Every tiny hair on her body lifted away from her skin as if he were a magnet and they, slivers of metal shards.
“Thank you for your confidence,” he spoke against the fabric of her cap with the reverence of someone who’d received a precious gift.
Oh, he was dangerous.
Dangerous enough for her to be dazzled into forgetting all the reasons that being this close to him was a very, very bad idea. Dangerous enough for her to be seized with the desire to lift her hand, caress his lightly stubbled cheek, hot beneath its sharp angles, and then follow the ridge of his cheekbone beneath her thumb. Dangerous enough for her to curl her fingers around his nape while she lifted her face...
She closed her eyes against the onslaught of his blurred features.
At the first brush of his lips, her heart took a downward plunge, throbbing in places she dared not define. Her breath mingled with his, and then, with vast, immeasurable gentleness, he explored her mouth.
Again and again, he softly claimed her kiss, until she liquefied in his arms.
She was moving, yes, but like a leaf on a tumbling stream—not the least in control of her destination. This wasn’t the raw, hard lust she’d shared with Karl, but something deeper. A journey. A true connection.
A sensation she never wanted to end.
At the sound of footsteps, he thrust her behind him just as he had in the lane. She caught a glimpse of a liveried fellow in the archway.
“Yes?” Hurtheven queried sharply.
“If you’ll pardon, Your Grace, are you at home to Mr. Barton? He said you requested his presence.”
Caught between the bookcase and his back, she felt rather than heard his under -breath swear. “Please place him in the West Parlor and tell him I will join him in approximately ten minutes.”
The footman bowed and then departed.
With her lips throbbing and dazed with desire, she rested her cheek against his shoulder. His chest rose and fell as he struggled to regain full control. Then, he turned.
He was darkly flushed, and his dilated eyes shone more than a little wild. “I’m afraid I must see him. There’s been some trouble with a dam in the river that joins our properties. It’s been affecting a field where his cattle graze. Even so, he’s waited until I returned to commence any repairs.”
“Please do not delay on my account,” she replied.
“You’d be surprised what I would do on your account.” He cradled her face and then he kissed her again, this time swiftly but gently. “Before I go, here’s what I wanted to give you—what I intended to give you later today.” He pulled a slim volume resting on the base of the final statue.
She glanced down at the gilt lettering.The Castle of Wolfenbach, Volume One.
“One of my favorites.” He brushed her hands as he handed her the book. “Until later, then.”
His words were heavy with promise.
She listened to his footsteps fade.
