“Duchess.” The low timbre of Thomas’ voice reached into her core and sent warmth flowing through her veins. “I’ve missed you.”
Oh, dear God, but she’d missed him too. Forcing herself to meet Harold’s painted gaze, Loretta hugged her arms in front of her.
She could not stop herself from recalling the feel of Thomas’ naked body tucked around her, cradling her in sleep. Nor the taste of his kiss. She’d missed him too.
How could that be?
Yes, she’d been aware of his masculinity since they’d first met, at Sophia and Dev’s wedding, but she’d been in a fog then. She’d barely spoken with him until this week.
And she’d known all along they would not suit.
How could he have come to mean so much to her?
She bit her lip to keep from responding with the same. Instead, she merely nodded, and then felt all kinds of a fool for the inadequacy of her response.
Had she forgotten how to be a woman?
She hadn’t forgotten when he’d taken her to bed.
“Are you going all duchessy on me again?” His question drew the briefest of smiles to her lips.
“Mr. Findlay, have you forgotten that Iama duchess and that you are a man of the merchant class?” She cringed at her own words.
And then his arms wrapped around her from behind. Her body’s wants warred with everything her brain insisted upon. “How could I forget that?” he growled, holding her tight to him, his desire apparent enough.
Not only her body, but her heart.
She could not help herself. Raising her hands, she covered his arms with hers and relaxed into his warmth. “Would be best for us to forget all of this. I am afraid…”
But what was she afraid of?
Change?
Guilt?
Gossip?
His chin rested atop her head heavily. All those years she’d been married, and she’d not realized how badly she needed this: affection, tenderness, touch.
“What are you afraid of?” His question echoed her thoughts.
She shook her head. “Too much. And I’ve no courage to face it all.” As a girl, she’d been matched to a duke. She’d used up all of her courage then.
“No courage even for love?” Was that what this was? He’d not mentioned the word before. And she had not expected him to…
She swallowed hard. “Especially not for love.” Because she’d break eventually. The two of them were too different. They’d lived such very different lives. He’d eventually decide she was too pampered and aloof and she’d tire of his uncouth habits.
She nearly had herself convinced.
And she did not think she could manage an affair without experiencing an abundance more guilt.
“Ah, so I should keep my offer to myself then?” Offer? Whatever was he going on about?
He couldn’t mean… Of course, he couldn’t. He’d meant to suggest they have an affair, surely. “Perhaps that would be best.”
He squeezed her tighter.
“I cannot, Thomas. I am past my time.” She voiced the words to persuade herself, at the same time leaning into his strength.
