“I think,” he said, “that you are not as brave as you want to appear.” She opened her tempting little mouth in outrage, and he amended his words. “Or, rather, I think that you do notwantto be as brave as you appear.”
He stepped forward. She stepped back, and her spine came up against the wall.
“I think,” he went on, “that you have been taking care of yourself for too long.”
“Women can take care of themselves as well as any man,” she retorted, her voice coming out a bit breathy.
Hector took one more step. It would be as easy as breathing to reach out and touch her now.
“They can,” he agreed, pleased with the way this surprised her. But this was another consequence of growing up far fromSociety’s strictures; he had seen women carry a babe on one hip and a sheep on the other shoulder. All the girls in the family who had taken him in could offer assistance at the forge when it was needed.
“But,” he went on, “I don’t think youwantthat, do you? Do you maybe wonder how good it might feel to let someone take that burden from your shoulders, just for a little while? Maybe you hope you can lean on someone who is strong enough to support ye?”
“No,” she said reflexively. “No, I?—”
There was nothing to interrupt her words but the stuttering of her own thoughts. Hector knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he couldn’t help but feel a dizzying rush of satisfaction when her words stopped, and her gaze dropped down to his lips.
“Oh, lass,” he murmured. She was too beautiful. Nobody could have resisted.
He brushed his lips against hers, so lightly that there was barely any contact between them, but enough that he could feel the rush of air as she gasped.
And then—no matter the herculean effort it cost him—he made himself pull back.
“Ye are not ruined yet, princess,” he said. Her hazel eyes had practically turned into dark mirrors; that’s how wide her pupilshad gone. “Don’t let those vultures stop you from having what you want.”
Clio looked up at the duke’s house as she left, as though the place might suddenly sprout arms and drag her back inside.
That had … not gone according to plan.
She’d wantedinformation.
So, she’d gone to the duke. Just to … compare notes. To make sure that they were of one mind.
They had … not been of one mind.
That part was fine. She’d expected him to be combative. Even in their short acquaintance, she was beginning to understand thatcombativewas the Duke of Metford’s default attitude.
She hadn’t expected him to be kind. She hadn’t expected him to encourage her to go after what she wanted.
And she sure as hell hadn’t expected thatkiss… if the glancing touch of lips to lips could even be called such a thing.
At least he hadn’t agreed to marry her. She genuinely feared that, in her addled state as she’d tried to reckon with his nearness, his stone-hewn beauty, his sheer masculine energy?—
God help her, if he’d said he wished to marry her, she might just have been lost enough to say yes.
Still, she didn’t feel safe from his terrible allure until his house had disappeared out of the carriage window.
When she could no longer glare forbiddingly at Metford Manor, she slumped back against the carriage seat. Good. No decisions had been made.
Admittedly, Aaron was being such a little pest about the matter, glowering and muttering about how Clio’s reputation would be restored by his honor as a duke and an admiral, et cetera.
She wouldn’t deny that she wasslightlytouched by his brotherly protectiveness, but it was increasingly difficult to find those tender feelings beneath the ire.
She scowled at him all the way home.
Time to talk to the person she should have approached first. Really, this … roil of emotion was her own fault for trying to get answers frommenin the first place.
“Phoebe,” she wailed as she found her sister by marriage nibbling at a biscuit while she read what was no doubt a deeplyscandalous novel. Phoebe didn’t really know any other kind of reading existed. Even so, Phoebe was sufficiently loyal that she immediately set aside her reading when Clio entered. “Phoebe, everything is terrible.”
