Page 40 of The Duke's Scottish Bride
There was a glint in his friend’s eye and a teasing edge to his tone. It was harmless, perhaps, but not with his sister. Not with Verity. He had no intention of letting such flirtation take root. Absolutely not.
So, before Verity could reply, Anselm cut in, keeping his tone formal and clipped. “I would advise you to mind your tongue around my unmarried sister, Lord Wrotham. Some sentiments are best kept to oneself.”
Emmanuel gave an elegant bow, though the faint amusement in his smile lingered. “My apologies, Your Grace. Merely broadening my horizons, as any man of the world should.”
Anselm’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Some might say you’ve already seen far too much of the world, Emmanuel.”
At that, his friend only laughed. “You know me too well, old boy.”
“I think they are goin’ to begin,” Marion offered with a smile.
“Agreed,” Anselm replied, as they settled in to watch the evening’s performance ofThe Innkeeper of Abbeville.
At first, Marion’s attention was wholly on the stage. The actors were lively, the set grand, and she found herself genuinely caught up in the story.
But then she felt it. Heat prickled at her skin. She didn’t need to glance sideways to know.
Anselm was watching her.
Carefully, as the scene unfolded before them, she shifted just enough to catch him in the act. His gaze was fixed, direct, heavy, and wholly on her.
He looked away the moment her eyes met his, turning toward the stage with an expression of perfect indifference.
Marion couldn’t help herself. Her words were just a feathered tease against his ear as she leaned in and whispered, “I saw ye staring, Yer Grace.”
“Did you?” he replied under his breath. His tone was infuriatingly smooth and he managed it without even glancing her way. “I was merely watching the performance.”
“Ye were watching me,” she countered softly as her smile curved with mischief.
His only reply was to shift subtly so that his hand settled on her thigh beneath the cover of her gown and the box’s low rail. The weight of it stole the breath from her lungs. Firm and unapologetic, his thumb traced the edge of her garter with scandalous confidence.
“Behave, Duchess,” he murmured, voice like smoke against her skin.
Her heart pounded as heat rushed through her. Every nerve was set alight with the forbidden touch. She knew she ought to pull away, but instead, she sat frozen in the heady tension, unable to think of anything beyond the pressure of his hand and the nearness of his breath.
“Or what?” she managed to retort as she stared straight into his eyes.
Anselm’s pupils dilated. The darkness took over the deep lush forests of his irises as he squeezed her leg. Then, slowly, deliberately, he slid his hand up her thigh so that his fingers traced a line between them over her gown.
Her breath hitched.
A startled warmth bloomed low in her belly, where his fingers pressed gently yet insistently. She hadn’t known such a sensation could exist—so sudden, so sharp, yet intoxicating in its mystery.
Her fingers clenched lightly in her lap as a flush crept up her neck and cheeks, quickening her pulse.
“Testing me again, little temptress?” he drawled into her ear. “Careful. I might test you in return. See how long you last before you’re begging for release.”
Marion bit her lip. She wasn’t sure what to think. Every nerve felt alive and electric. It was as if he had ignited something deep inside her she never knew was waiting. A tremble rose unbidden and her body ached in a way she didn’t understand but found impossible to resist.
Then—
“A thousand pardons,” Emmanuel’s voice broke in, pitched just low enough to remain between the four of them. He didn’t even look their way as he spoke because he was lounging back lazily. “Hate to interrupt whatever riveting conversation is happening in this corner, but you might like to know that half the pit is watching our box.”
Marion flushed scarlet as her breath caught.
Anselm, unruffled, withdrew his hand. He fixed Emmanuel with a slow, warning glare.
“Perhaps you should take a stroll during intermission,” Emmanuel added, winking toward them with blatant mischief.
