Page 38 of Her Wicked Duke
She inhaled sharply, and her legs pressed together beneath her skirts.
He trailed a fingertip across her jaw, drawing a line down her neck, and she shivered.
“I did,” she managed to answer, disliking how he could disarm her so swiftly. “Perhaps I still want what I wished for with the Earl in the first place.”
Alexander’s shoulders stiffened. He was leaning closer to her, his body flush against hers, and she wondered how he might react if she let her hands dance down the buttons on his jacket, what he would say or do if she began to undo each one, only to leave him wanting and yearning.
Kiss me.
She wanted to push him, to make him snap. She wanted to know what he was like when he lost the control he clung onto so hard to be respectful.
Forget honor, forget my brother’s request, forget your promises. What more might you truly see in me if you just look?
“You do not mean that,” Alexander said, his voice rough, as if it pained him to hold back.
She didn’t want him to. She wanted him to take control, to know what he looked like when he was mad with desire.
“Oh, I do,” she answered coyly, letting her eyes widen innocently. “After all, you have only kissed me once.”
He made an angry noise at the back of his throat, and she closed her eyes at the sound, letting her head lean back against the wall.
“And as for your Earl?” he prompted. “As you have seen yourself, he loves women in the shadows. I only promised you discretionto save your reputation, but if you wish for a public courtship, Anne, then I would not hesitate.”
She knew he was lying. He was trying to call her bluff to rile her up.
She smiled as his hand slid down her waist. “Why did you not dance with me when I asked but danced with the other ladies?”
“I was coerced,” he answered, and she scoffed. “And pressured into it by my grandmother. When I dance with you, Anne, I want it to be of my own free will—when I am courting you publicly.”
Anne sensed some truth in his words that shocked her to the core, and she felt the tension dissipate. Still, Alexander’s hands wandered, gliding over her velvet ballgown as his lips brushed her shoulder, over her dress.
He turned his face to hers as if he intended to trail kisses up her neck. She arched her neck to allow him access as his hands settled on her hips.
She heard a rustling noise before he pulled back.
“What is this?” he asked.
Anne peered down, her heart sinking to her stomach when she saw that terrifyingly familiar cursive. A small, broken noise escaped her lips.
A letter was tucked into her reticule, which was hanging open, as if the person who had slipped the letter inside hadn’t had time to close it. It hadn’t been there before, not even when she’d asked to dance with Alexander.
“Anne, who have you danced with?”
“I-I don’t know,” she stammered.
“Too many?” Alexander scoffed. “Anne, I am serious. It’s somebody you’ve danced with—it has to be. How else could anyone get that close to you?”
“I don’tknow, Alexander!” she cried, frightened. Her heart pounded in her chest. “It wasn’t there before.”
“It’s somebody here,” he murmured, confirming suspicions they both already had. “He’s here.”
And that statement, a worry that had been plucked directly from her mind, put even more fear in her. Her head whipped around as she pushed Alexander away. He’d already fished the letter from her reticule, clutching it between his fingers.
“Don’t open it,” she whispered.
But he already had. Of course, he had. He had nothing to fear from its contents. He was there to protect her. She could trust him even if she did not trust what was written in the letter.
“My beautiful Anne,” Alexander began to read in a hushed voice.
