Page 29 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place
Violet’s lips twitched, but she was still watching him carefully.
Max exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. “You like him. That is enough.”
And that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?
He had seen her pain today. And if some half-wild mongrel could bring her even a sliver of comfort, then it could stay.
Violet studied him for a long moment before murmuring, almost to herself, “You’re being kind.”
Max’s brow furrowed. “I am frequently kind.”
She snorted delicately. “No, you are frequently polite. But this… this is different.”
Max bristled. “You make it sound as though I have committed some great and terribly out-of-character act of charity.”
She tilted her head, her gaze thoughtful. “I simply did not expect it.”
There was a pause, charged and heavy. Max realized—for the first time in their long and complicated acquaintance—that they were alone. Truly alone. Save for the dog, of course. But there was no human audience to witness their usual sparring. No meddling servants, no prying relatives.
And they had not traded a single sharp remark.
It was disconcerting. Which was precisely why Violet chose that moment to look directly at him and ask, softly, “Why did you kiss me this morning?”
Max stilled.
She had never been one to avoid confrontation. But he had hoped—foolishly, apparently—that she would let this particular matter rest.
He could lie. He could laugh it off, deflect with some quip about the heat of the moment, about wanting her to stop arguing with him. But he had never been a liar. So he took a step closer, closing the distance between them, and said, simply, “Because I wanted to.”
Violet exhaled sharply, her green eyes darkening.
Max kept his voice even, steady. “Because I have always wanted to.”
A faint flush crept up her neck, and she looked away, as if she needed a moment to collect herself.
Max was momentarily stunned. Violet never looked away. She had never shied away from anything in all of her life, to his knowledge.
She was always the one to meet his gaze head-on, to match him quip for quip, to argue until one of them stormed away in frustration.
And yet, here she was, hesitating. Which meant…
She felt it, too. That dangerous, undeniable pull between them.
Max’s stomach tightened. “Violet,” he said, low and serious.
She inhaled sharply, lifting her chin, meeting his gaze once more.
There was a beat of silence, thick with everything they had never acknowledged, never spoken aloud. And then, before either of them could say another word, the mongrel yapped excitedly, darting between them and sending a shower of dirt onto Max’s boots.
Max closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose.
Violet, of course, laughed.
And just like that, the moment was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Dinner had begun in relative peace, which was an astonishing feat, considering the nature of their marriage. Violet had arrived at the dining table bracing herself for another evening of strained silence, barbed remarks, and the occasional forced politeness when one of the footmen lingered too close. Instead, there had been something decidedly… different about the atmosphere between them.
