He smiled faintly.
And for a moment, the distance between hatred and something darker, something dangerous, narrowed to a breath.
He leaned in, his face drawing closer until only an inch of space separated them. The warmth of his body reached her, a subtle but undeniable heat that seemed to seep inside her skin.
Her heart quickened, its rhythm betraying her as it hammered against her ribs, entirely of its own accord. She could feel his scent—spiced and intoxicating—filling the air between them. Every nerve in her body seemed to hum with awareness, but she held herself still, refusing to let him see how deeply his nearness affected her.
“If I hadn’t been there,” he continued, “Grewin would have done worse. Much worse. And then what?” His eyes locked on hers, impenetrable, fragile. “What do you think would’ve happened then?”
Kitty swallowed hard, hating the way her heart was betraying her, the way his closeness made her light-headed. She knew he was in the right. And yet?—
“You did what duty requires,” she whispered, voice throbbing with defiance.
The duke’s eyes dropped for a moment—to her lips.
Desire curled low in her stomach.
“You are my betrothed,” he said, his breath feathering against her skin.
She smiled hesitantly, wanting to conceal the trembling of her arms.
“How... romantic,” she murmured, her voice hollow as the words left her lips. The reality of it settled like winter frost—she was baggage to be accounted for, another obligation in his ledger of duties. There should have been anger, but all that rose in her chest was a quiet ache, the sort that came from recognizing an inescapable truth.
Norman’s expression darkened. “There will be no romance.”
Kitty’s heart pounded erratically in her chest.
“No?” She challenged, tilting her head a fraction. “Then why loom over me?”
The duke stood stock still.
They did not speak for what felt like a really long time. The quiet stretched out, thick and charged, each passing breath between them a countdown.
Kitty heard the beat of her own heart, felt the tension wrapping itself around them like an invisible cord. She ought to have moved away. She ought to have made space. But she did not.
She could not.
Norman didn’t answer.
He merely touched a finger to her chin, tipping her head by an inch. Her breath held. She ought to have struggled against it—ought to have stepped away—but she didn’t.
The world narrowed to the space between them, to the warmth of his hand on her skin, to the deepening of his eyes as he gazed at her.
And then?—
Norman took a step back, his breathing ragged, his eyes impenetrable.
Kitty stared at him, dazed, lips vibrating, all ideas in her head shattering.
“You will be at the parish tomorrow,” he growled. “And you will stand beside me.”
Kitty swallowed, her head spinning.
Norman’s gaze dropped to her lips once more—briefly—before he spun on his heel and made for the door.
She barely had time to catch her breath before he vanished.
Six
