He staggered back, and his breath caught. His arms and legs became dead weight in an otherwise alive, thrumming body.
Memories of a dream slammed into him. A dream so alive and real he’d awoken from it desperate with need, drenched in sweat, and breathing harder than if he’d run for his life across a live battlefield.
Jade eyes. A teasing cloak of concealing mist. Tantalizing glimpses of a beautiful woman, moving, dancing, enticing, and drawing him into her gaze. Stealing the breath from his body and the clarity from his mind. Her movements of pure sensual invitation drugged him with a substance so potent it shot through his veins, making his heart race. A drug so addictive he couldn’t look away. A stimulant so long-lasting he was still vulnerable to its effects. As he dreamed, he gave into the craving, the longing to stand in the mist with her and watch her move, strum the air with her arms, and sway and wiggle her hips and buttocks in a manner so provocative he was willing to fall to his knees in worship.
The memory of the dream claimed him just as completely as it had the night he’d first experienced it. When the image of her eyes released him from their hold, he nearly slumped to the floor in relief, limp. Well, most of him. His cock was as hard as steel.
Drawing a calming breath, he willed his body to cool and to stop being so goddamned aroused by a single dream. He couldn’t understand how a dream could affect him so much. He’d dreamed many sensual, sexual dreams before. He wasn’t a monk.
Why were those eyes achingly familiar? He ran his fingers through his hair, straightened his coat, and pulled back his shoulders. He turned the corner into the parlor, and the ladies looked up from their conversation.
He registered the surprise and pleasure on his aunt’s face and then moved to look at the other woman. The blood pounded in his veins as recognition hit him.
Her eyes were an unmistakable green--how had he not realized it before?
It was her.
The one he’d first dreamed about those many nights ago. Long before he’d ever seen her face, touched her skin, breathedin her hypnotic scent, he’d fantasized about her, wanted her, begged her to stay, to not disappear behind a veil of mist.
The floor heaved beneath his feet.
A sensation he couldn’t pinpoint turned up the heat within him until it boiled.
Everything had changed.
He had to get her alone.
Rising to meet him, his aunt and Miss Edwards both smiled in greeting, the latter trying valiantly to hide an expression of anxiety.
Clearing the lump of tension set in his throat, he greeted them.
“I hope your after-dinner tea was refreshing.” His gaze on his aunt, he said, “Aunt, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how are the plans for the dinner party coming along?”
Her eyes widened, and she smiled. “I’m surprised you asked. They are coming along well. Everything is nearly in place. There will be ten in attendance, including Miss Edwards, and two of Harry’s visiting cousins. They’ve been staying with the Hughes' for more than a month, and apparently you never took the time to meet them.” Tsking, she continued, “But that will be rectified at the dinner party.”
“Harry never mentioned his cousins visiting, but to be honest, I wouldn’t have gone to meet them even if I knew. You of all people know I am not sociable.”
“Well, it cannot be helped. You are a duke, and it is your duty to be hospitable to your neighbors.” She made to sit down, but his voice stilled her movements.
“Aunt, thank you for planning the dinner party. I do hope you haven’t overtaxed yourself. Perhaps you should turn in for the evening. You have another long day ahead.”
Mischievous approval brightened her eyes, and she smiled.
“You are right, Logan. Today has been taxing, and I do believe I will turn in for the night.”
She turned to Miss Edwards and grabbed her hands. “Goodnight my dear. Thank you for taking the time to answer my many questions. I cannot wait to sit with you tomorrow and hear more about Jared Padeleki and pedicures.”
Miss Edwards smiled. “I enjoyed it. Goodnight, Millie.”
“Goodnight, dear.” Letting go of Miss Edwards’ hands, she turned, gave him a quick wink, and floated from the room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Haven watched Millie flit from the room like a beautiful butterfly, fluttering with purpose, and away from a brewing storm. Peeling her gaze from the only safe thing in the room, she grit her teeth, lifted her chin, and looked at the duke.
That was a mistake. The blood drained from her face and pooled in her belly.
The duke was cloaked with a dark look so menacing she didn’t know whether to run or strike first.
