Page 17 of The Haunted Duke

“Uncooperative?”

“I think I was looking for the word insufferable. You are such a—”

Evander stopped and turned so suddenly that Helena nearly collided with his chest. She caught herself a breath away from him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his great frame, close enough that she had to tip her head back to hold his gaze.

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw clenched as if he were struggling with something. Then, to her complete surprise, he reached for her.

Helena went rigid. In all the long hours since they had met, this man had not once laid a hand on her. He had withheld it from the carriage, from the step, from every courtesy a gentleman owed a lady. And now his gloved fingers slid slowly into her hair, grazing the shell of her ear, and every furious word died in her throat.

She could not breathe. She could not move. She could only stand there, as his warmth wrapped around her like a held breath, his face close enough now that she could see the storm-gray ring at the edge of all that pale blue.

“What are you…”

Then Evander pulled back, taking his body heat with him, and held up a tiny hydrangea petal.

“You had a petal in your hair,” he stated, smirking. “It was bothering me. Almost as much as my presence seems to bother you.”

Helena stood in puzzled silence as he placed the petal in her palm, then turned to walk toward the modiste’s on his own. She remained there for another long moment, now more confused than ever about the man she had been paired with.

“Come along, Miss,” Aggie gently urged. “It looks as if it is about to rain. You do not want to be on the street when the clouds let loose.”

Helena looked up, and sure enough, what had started as a sunny, clear day was now overcast by threatening-looking storm clouds. She shook the petal out of her hand as if it were poisonous and entered the shop.

Helena held the door open for Aggie, but her maid remained on the street.

“Aggie?”

Aggie looked hesitantly up at the clouds.

“It is quite the storm that is brewing, Miss,” Aggie answered. “I fear we may not have time to complete our errands. Perhaps I should run quickly to the bakery and stationery shop while you attend to your fitting.”

Helena was instantly uncomfortable with the idea, but before she could say so, a boom of thunder erupted from above, followed by a harsh streak of bright yellow lightning.

“I will be quick,” Aggie promised. “And will come back to you posthaste. The modiste is inside. Surely this would maintain propriety for the few minutes I am gone?”

Helena worried her bottom lip, still unsure, but when another crack of thunder sounded off, she quickly agreed.

“Hurry, Aggie, I do not wish for this day to be any longer than it needs to be,” she said in agreement.

Aggie gave her a solemn nod, then moved hastily down the street as the wind picked up and turned cold.

Lord, give me strength to get through this day.

Chapter 5

“This is hell. I am in hell,” Evander muttered.

When he was held captive at sea, convinced he was going to die a painful death at any moment, he thought that would be the worst moment of his life. Now, as he sat in the modiste’s chair surrounded by lacey things he could not help but imagine Helena wearing, he realized he was wrong. What made it worse was that Helena was not far from him at all, and she had no doubt removed all her clothing to try on her wedding dress.

The woman he loved. The woman he longed for was just a curtain away. Naked. And all he could do was sit still and wait for her to come out in her wedding dress. A wedding dress she would not wear for him, but for another man.

Evander rubbed his temples, wishing he had never agreed to Damien’s favor. He had braced himself to see Helena again, but the moment his eyes landed on her the day before, looking so stunning and perfect, he had felt like someone had punched through his chest with an anvil, and he had yet to recover.

He had been intent on staying as far away from her as possible, both in space and in conversation, but the moment he saw her pale after spotting this Lord Ingram’s carriage, he broke his own rule. He hated how sickly she had suddenly looked, as if she, too, had taken a harsh punch to the chest. Whatever the man did to her or her family, it was certainly not good. Even if she would not admit it, he knew that to be true.

“Nearly finished!” the modiste called from behind the curtains.

“Splendid,” he replied, and bit back a groan as he dropped his head in his hands.