Wilhelm stopped moving entirely.
Madeline drew a quiet breath, forcing herself to remain composed. “I did nothing beyond being polite.”
“You were looking at him,” he said, voice rough.
Madeline stared. “Of course I was looking at him. He was speaking to me.”
“Not like that,” he said again, lower now, as though the words dragged themselves from a place he’d intended to bury. “Not with that blush on your cheeks.”
Madeline hesitated only a fraction of a second before answering, her chin lifting. “If I did blush, it was because he surprised me. That is all.”
She held his gaze without flinching.
Wilhelm’s eyes darkened. “And why,” he said slowly, “did it surprise you?”
“Because he was kind,” she replied, her voice steady even as her pulse quickened. “Because he was charming. Because he made me laugh, and none of those things are crimes, Your Grace. They are simply manners.”
Wilhelm shifted forward slowly. . His posture stiffened as though something in him had reached its limit. Madeline’s breath caught before she could stop it, her lungs drawing in a startled, trembling inhale she hoped he did not hear.
He took another step, closer still, his shadow sliding over her like a dark, unspoken warning. She moved without thinking, her body reacting before her mind caught up, and her heel struck the base of the bookshelf behind her. Her spine followed a heartbeat later, the polished wood cool against her back, a stark contrast to the growing heat pooling low in her belly.
Wilhelm stopped only when he stood close enough that his presence seemed to wrap around her entirely, close enough that the warmth of his chest brushed her skin with every uneven exhale, close enough that she could smell the faint mix of winter cold, horse, pine, and something distinctly him. The air between them thickened, charged, as if even the room itself understood that one wrong breath could break them open.
He was not touching her, not even an inch of him pressed to her, yet somehow he was everywhere—heat and restraint and aching tension surrounding her like a second body.
“You should stay away from him,” he murmured, voice deepening.
“No,” she whispered, matching his stare, her heart thundering. “I should not be told which men I may speak to. I should not be accused of impropriety when I have done nothing wrong.”
Wilhelm’s jaw worked, a storm gathering behind his eyes. “I am trying to protect you.”
Madeline’s throat tightened. “From Lord Heathston?”
“Yes.”
“Why does it concern you?” She asked, trying to read his expression as she spoke, looking deeply into his eyes.
There, she saw sparks dancing there in the icy blue orbs, and she found herself wishing, almost immediately, that she hadn’t spoken those words aloud. For they implied her employer was too concerned about her well-being.
Madeline felt him still, felt the sudden, terrifying shift in his breath. His hand lifted, as though against his own will, hovering beside her cheek, trembling faintly before curling into a fist and dropping again.
“Miss Watton,” he said, but it did not sound like a warning. It sounded like a plea.
Madeline’s fingers curled into the bookshelf behind her, nails pressing into wood. “Why are you angry with me?” she whispered.
His eyes closed briefly, as though gathering strength. When he opened them, the restraint in them was fracturing. “Because you smiled at him,” he said softly, raw. “And he made you blush. And I have no right to care. None.”
Madeline felt her breath unravel and her voice dropped to a tremor. “Then why do you?”
Wilhelm inhaled sharply, but it was shallow and unsteady. Then he moved before she saw it.
One moment her heart was pounding helplessly in her chest, and the next Wilhelm’s hands were on her—one braced at her waist, the other lifting to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him with a force that stole the air from her lungs.
His mouth crashed against hers.
Madeline gasped, her hands flying to his coat to hold on as the world tilted precariously beneath her. His lips were insistent and demanding, moving against hers with a hunger that shocked her, devoured her, asked for nothing and everything all at once.
Heat surged through her in a fierce, dizzying rush.
