Page 13 of Corrupting his Duchess
“That doesn’t seem to be stopping you,” he murmured.
She faltered.
She turned to face him fully, eyes narrowing. “You’re very sure of yourself.”
“Not of myself,” he said, voice low. “Of what I want.”
“You barely know me,” she said.
He took a step closer. “I know enough.”
“Do you?” she asked, lifting her chin. “Tell me, then. What exactly do you think you know?”
“That you’re clever,” he said, taking another step. “That you’re braver than you pretend to be. That you hide discomfort behind wit, and that you’ve been watching me as much as I’ve been watching you.”
“I…”
Henry took another step. Slowly. A flicker of amusement danced at the corner of his mouth.
“You enjoy unsettling me,” she said quietly.
He gave a small shrug. “I enjoy honesty.”
“And what exactly would you have me be honest about?” she asked, voice still soft.
His voice was a low murmur. “That you’re not nearly as indifferent as you pretend to be.”
He took the last step that brought them close, closer than was proper. She backed instinctively, but her feet hit the stone wall of the manor just behind them. Cold against her spine.
Her voice wavered, just slightly. “You can’t possibly be serious.”
He didn't touch her. But his presence was everywhere, she could feel his breath warm against her temple, hear the shift of his coat sleeve as it brushed her own, the scent of leather and cedar wrapping around her like a whisper.
She held her breath.
His voice lowered to a murmur. “I don’t play games with such things.”
For a suspended second, she swore the world went quiet, no breeze, no birdsong, only the pulse in her throat.
The words brushed her ear, sending a shiver down her arms. Her treacherous heartbeat thudded in her throat and she wondered if he could hear it.
For one wild, breathless moment, she was certain he would kiss her. And worse, she wanted him to.
But instead, Henry leaned back. Slowly. Intentionally. A flicker of amusement danced at the corner of his mouth.
And then, he stepped back.
Slow. Controlled.
The corner of his mouth curved, not smug, not mocking. Just amused.
“Come,” he said casually. “You’ll freeze out here.”
He turned and began walking back toward the path.
Anna remained against the wall a moment longer, her thoughts a muddle of warning bells and reckless curiosity.
Anna stood frozen, pressed lightly to the wall, breath short.
