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Duchess of His Heart

Page 21

by Collette Cameron

His eyes darkening to the shade of the deepest sea, he gathered her hand in his and then astounded her by firmly pressing his mouth to her knuckles. “I’ve not forgotten anything about you, Regine.” Huskiness tempered his tone, and she was nearly undone.

A spark of hope ignited, so minuscule, she was afraid to breathe lest it die.

He edged closer until his thigh touched hers, and she could see the cobalt ring circling his iris. His manly scent encompassed her, his heat an almost undeniable, magnetic pull. “I remember how you feel in my arms,” he said throatily as he drew her to his solid chest.

Good God above.

“I recall the sensitive place behind your ear,” he breathed against that exact spot. “Just here.” He placed a hot kiss there, and she couldn’t quite smother a moan of pleasure.

“James,” she whispered shakily into his neck. “What…what are you doing?”

He leaned away a couple of inches, a tender, enigmatic smile bending his mouth as he brushed a knuckle along her cheekbone. Rather than answer, he pulled her onto his lap.

She gave a little yelp and grabbed his lapels, all too aware of the hard length of his thighs beneath her bottom and another insistent lump straining against his falls. He wanted her. A delicious thrill heated her blood. Sweet Lord, her beloved James, wanted her.

“James, Bentley might return,” she managed between gasps as he continued his sensual onslaught on her neck and throat.

“Not if he values his position, he won’t,” he fairly growled. “He was directed to see that we are not disturbed.”

Mortification scorched her face. Good Lord. What must the nervous clerk be thinking? Did he suspect what went on inside his employer’s office? She gave a mental shrug. Let Bentley think what he would. At last, she was in James’s arms again, and nothing else mattered.

“I realized something last night,” James said, nuzzling her neck and making her head spin. All thoughts of propriety flew to the four corners of the Earth.

“You did,” she murmured breathlessly, somehow finding her fingers threaded in his silky hair, and her neck arched to permit him easier access. “And what…” She moaned as he nipped her throat. “What…what did you realize?”

She could barely cobble together two words, she was so aware of him. Of every sinewy, hard contour as he wreaked havoc on her senses.

“That I still love you.” He pressed her palm to his chest, and she felt the steady beat of his heart. “You are now, have always been, and will always be the duchess of my heart.”

James hadn’t meant to blurt his feelings. He’d intended to woo Regine, to break down her defenses and reservations first. But the words had played non-stop, a monologue in his mind since the realization had struck him with the force of a lightning bolt at dinner last night.

I love her. I love her. I love Regine.

Elation and trepidation and a myriad of other sentiments roiled within him in a cacophony of confusing feelings and emotions. But rising to the top was one indisputable, all-consuming truth: he loved her.

Regine’s past didn’t matter. Why she’d married Heartwaite didn’t matter. She was here, in his arms, where she should’ve always been. Where he’d have her stay for as long as he drew a breath.

He loved her. And by God, from the doe-eyed glances coming from her gorgeous, guileless azure eyes, she still loved him. Their love had endured, despite everything.

“You love me?” Wonder and awe rendered her voice sultry as her eyes flicked back and forth, looking into one of his and then the other. “You truly love me, even after—?”

Such hope glimmered in her gaze that moisture stung the back of his. “I do, darling.”

“Oh, James.” A teardrop trickled from the corner of one eye and then the other.

His gut wrenched at the sight, making him recall the last time he’d seen her hugging herself, hunched over and sobbing as if in agony. When he’d left her without letting her explain. “Regine, I—”

“I love you, too.” She sucked in a shaky breath and sniffed against the crystal-like droplets making a slow path over her smooth, ivory cheeks. “I never stopped.” Her expression grew serious. “Please believe. I never stopped loving you, and it almost killed me to marry Heartwaite.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his coat, and a heart-shaped slip of paper adorned with red ribbon and lace dropped onto her lap.

A frown turned her mouth down, and she stiffened before raising stricken, inquisitive eyes to his. “A valentine?”

He scooped up the valentine and waved it under her nose, grinning all the while. “This is from your imp of a sister.”

Regine blinked at him as she patted at the moisture upon her cheeks. “Juliet?”

“Certainly not Marian or Christiana.” He winked roguishly.