Page 82 of A Scottish Bride for the Duke
“Finally, you admit it.”
“And ye like me.”
For a second, the fondness in his eyes wavered, and she wondered if he would back away, telling her that he did not likeher, despite all the evidence to the contrary. Instead, he frowned a little.
“Yes,” he said after a long moment. “I suppose I do.”
“Daenae sound as though that’s such a problem,” she teased.
In answer, he bent and kissed her—but although his kiss was soft, she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was kissing her to prevent the necessity of replying.
“You trulyaredisgusting,” Eliza said from above them. “Heavens, keep that up at the ball and everyone will believe you married for love alone.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or other reasons.”
“Eliza!” Lady Northley said from behind them.
Adrian straightened slowly, as though he had all the time in the world and as though it had not so much as occurred to him to be embarrassed about what had just occurred.
“Are you both ready to depart?”
“I most certainly am,” Eliza said. “And I cannotwaitto arrive on the arm of a duchess.”
Adrian held Isobel’s arm still. “I shall arrive on the arm of a duchess. You will have to make do with your mother.”
“Cruel,” Eliza said, but although she stuck her tongue out at Adrian, she didn’t seem too upset.
Isobel tightened her hand on Adrian’s arm and looked up at him with a grin. He winked at her.
They took the carriage to the ballroom, and when Isobel and Adrian were announced as the Duke and Duchess of Somerset, she felt the whispers, the eyes on her.
And for the first time, she didn’t feel as though she needed to shy away or find somewhere to hide.
Having Adrian by her side gave her courage. Security. No one would harm her so long as he remained by her side. At her smile, he gave her a questioning look.
“What’s making you smile like a cat with the cream, fey girl?”
“I’m just thinking that I’m fortunate.”
He snorted. “I could have told you that.”
“Not because ye’re a duke,” she insisted, tugging at his arm. “Although perhaps that’s part of it. But because ye make me feel safe.”
“That has always been the goal, Isobel,” he said. “Enjoy yourself. You are safe with me.”
“Stay by my side,” she said.
“Of course.”
They greeted his mother, who had arrived under her own steam, and made their way around the room.
True to his word, Adrian remained by her side, his head bent toward her as he took part in her conversations. When he didn’t, he rested a hand on the small of her back. A small gesture, but one that united them and offered her silent support.
From another perspective, she suspected that he enjoyed having the weight of his hand resting against her. Only two layers of material separated his skin from hers, and given their intimacy over the last week or so, she knew he was thinking about the feel of her skin against his.
No doubt it pleased him to think that of everyone in the ballroom, only he had the right to touch her in that way. It would feed into the possessiveness she had seen. His determination to make herhis.
Even so, he said and did nothing that made him appear as though he was thinking of lewd acts. The only indication he gave was when they passed out of sight of the ballroom, shielded bya large potted plant, and his hand slid down to her backside and squeezed.
“Adrian!” she said, trying not to smile. “Ye know ye can’t.”
