“Are you—” she reached out, but let her hand drop, “—feeling well?”
“Yes,” his tone had changed back to the brusque tone she was used to getting from him. “Let’s have supper.”
A dozen concerns lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she felt that he would not be receptive; it was too soon to be digging into his private affairs. She followed him back to the joint chamber where the cart was placed and ready for them.
She paused to look for another candle as the others had burned to nothing. Dorian stopped her, found a set, and lit them. Placing them in dual candle holders, he set them on the table.
“I’ve been told that candlelight dinner is a romantic hallmark,” Dorian murmured as he settled into the chair.
The vee of his shirt also gave a tantalizing glimpse of the coarse hair that lightly furred his chest. The delicious meal of chicken stew, herbed potatoes, and side dishes was accompanied by wine. She slathered her crusty slice of bread with creamy butter, her eyes closing briefly at the pleasure of that humble yet timeless pairing.
“That moan was indecent,” he muttered.
She paused, “What moan?”
He chuckled throatily. “So innocent.”
She speared a sliver of potato, “Why were you so distracted?”
“I was lost in thought,” he told her.
Ellie considered her next words. “The pendant in your hand was so delicate, it seems like something a lady would have owned. Was it a keepsake of a woman you once loved?”
CHAPTER 12
Dorian’s tone grated. “Do you recall the agreement not to inquire into my private affairs?”
“Yes,” she replied quietly. “I apologize.”
Slightly aggravated, Dorian sipped his wine.
They did not like each other... but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. He desired her, hungered for her. That was unquestionable. The fact that they fought like cats and dogs couldn’t stop the need that shot through him like a potent drug.
With her clad in a frilly white wrapper, her glossy curls tumbling free, he thought back to the kiss they’d shared last night—and wanted more. That kiss had stolen his reason, and if not for the gravity of the moment, he would have pushed for more.
“Take care not to do it again,” he muttered.
She had enjoyed it—he knew for he had seen it in the pink tinge of her cheeks, the wideness of her eyes, and the rapid pace of her breath. Whether Evelina wanted to admit it or not, she enjoyed kissing.
And how he would love to teach her to kiss some more.
But he could not. Could he? Would their agreement allow him to?
“What do you suppose my family is saying with us not attending the wedding breakfast?” she asked.
“Anything, from you wanting to rush off to the honeymoon, to me banning you from seeing them because of how repugnant they are,” Dorian replied.
“Repugnant,” Evelina uttered. “Is that not a touch unkind?”
“Not from where I stand, no,” he replied. “How well do you know your relatives?”
“I know my aunt has a liking for the ton—”
“Anobsession.”
“—that has made her do some silly things—”
“Completely outlandish.”
