Page 101 of A Bride for the Forbidden Duke
Her hand pressed to his, palm to palm, as if in reverence to one another. They both stepped back, maintaining that point of contact before drifting forwards once more. Veronica’s breath caught; Henry’s gaze never moved from hers. She was caught up in his spell, and every second of it hurt.
Do you see me? she thought.Do you see my pain? My longing?Do you not crave me any longer?
Her chest hurt unbearably as they rotated around one another, their steps careful and deliberate. He danced excellently, fluid and strong, as she knew he would be. Her hand brushed his shoulder, and his went to her waist, pulling her flush against him as they made larger circles on the dance floor. Their guests moved back, forming a barrier for them to have space to dance within, nobody else daring to interrupt yet.
The ballroom faded around Veronica as she danced beneath the candlelight above, under the weight of her husband’s attention.
Slowly, that hard look in his eyes began to melt, as if he could not keep a grip on the facade he threw up defensively. He grazed her palm with his fingertips, the touch sending shivers through her, even through her satin gloves.
They swayed and circled, drifted and stepped. She wanted him. Shemissedhim. There was nothing more she wanted than her husband and the normalcy they had begun to find before theirargument. She wished for a beautiful future with him and nights where their bodies did not part once, and their hands could not stop searching, wringing desire from one another.
Veronica ached deeply for Henry.
The space between them lessened, and yet there was still too much distance to cross easily.
“Will you not say anything to me?” Veronica asked, her voice covered by the beauty of the music.
“There is nothing left to say,” Henry answered, and the softness she had thought she glimpsed vacated his face.
That impenetrable mask returned, setting his mouth tight.
“That is truly how you feel?” she asked, despair creeping through her.
“Yes.”
She inhaled sharply, holding back her tears.
His hand loosened on her waist. They continued dancing, and when the music ended, she did not curtsy. She pulled away from her husband hurriedly, pushing her way through the crowd. A voice tugged her back, but it was not Henry’s.
Veronica turned on the outskirts of the ballroom to face Evelina.
“Veronica,” she said, alarmed, “are you quite all right? Do you wish to go somewhere quieter and speak?”
“I am well,” Veronica lied. “Merely… weary from organizing such a grand affair. I only need some air to calm down.”
“I can come with you,” Evelina offered, her bright eyes twinkling with concern.
“Do not worry yourself. Please return to the ball. Many eligible men are here tonight, and they would all be fortunate to be your suitor, dear Evelina. I shall return shortly.”
She gave her friend an encouraging nod then she pulled away before Evelina could call her back.
She all but ran down the main hallway, past the staircase, and through to the back of the house where she emerged into the back gardens.
Hurrying to the nearest bench, Veronica collapsed onto it, and her emotions rushed out of her. Her chest eased, but she sobbed into her gloved hands.
“You foolish, foolish thing,” she chastised herself through hitching breaths. “How could you fall for him? He cannot love you. He does not wish to love you!”
Veronica let herself cry in solitude, listening to the faint music coming from the ballroom. The night air snaked around her, and she shivered, wishing she had Henry’s warmth to surround herself with. But the brief time she had gotten such warmth was over now.
Veronica had a feeling she would be left out in the cold for a lot longer.
“How unfortunate it is to find you out here all alone,Your Grace.”
A man’s voice had her sitting rigidly upright, her eyes scanning the darkness.
Somebody stepped out of the shadowed alcove of the manor, a sly grin on his face.
Lord Barwicke.
