Page 55

Another heartbeat passed.

"I have known women."

There was no pride in the admission. Only fact.

"I first did so when I was fourteen. Indeed, I have never married, but there were women before you. There were also... professionals."

The final word felt uncomfortable upon his tongue.

"And never once have I received a complaint regarding my abilities."

She simply stared. Wide-eyed. Cheeks burning. For one reckless, unforgivable moment, he allowed his imagination to betray him. It would take so little. He could have his hands upon the skin usually hidden beneath silk and propriety, could draw her against him until her legs wrapped around his waist, could lower his mouth to hers without so much as taking a step.

He had spent weeks refusing himself even the smallest indulgence of such thoughts, yet now, with her trapped between his body and the wall, they came with alarming ease.

Weeks refusing even to acknowledge that this striking woman would willingly reach for him.

"So..." she whispered.

The single word barely carried between them.

"...why haven't you?"

His jaw tightened. The last time they had spoken of their marriage, he had left her wounded. He knew that. He had done it deliberately, but he had no wish to inflict further pain. Not when she had come here with nothing but earnest intentions and colour-coded notes tucked inside scandalous books to try and help him.

"When I take you..."

His own words surprised him. They sounded almost like a vow.

"...and mark my words, my Duchess..."

His eyes searched hers.

"I will."

He noted the rise and fall of her chest, pausing. She had stopped breathing.

"It will be hard."

His honesty demanded no less.

"It will be heated."

His voice softened.

"But what it will not be..."

He hesitated.

"...is love."

He saw the understanding reach her before the hurt could. Unable to bear watching it unfold, he lifted the book still trapped beside her shoulder.

"You see this?" he asked, pointedly looking at the book.

She nodded silently. He looked at the worn cover for only a moment before tossing it over his shoulder; the thud ricocheted behind him.

His now free hand rose almost of its own accord. He cupped her cheek, which filled his hand with soft warmth. As soon as his hand made contact with her cheek, she closed her eyes for the briefest instant and leaned, ever so slightly, into his palm.