Page 9 of Married Off by the Duke
The moment he’d laid eyes on her during that first Christmas visit, he’d been ready to compose bad poetry about Emma’s crystalline blue eyes. Their ages at the time—Emma had been a mere fifteen, he not yet turned twenty-two—precluded any genuine expression of interest, and so he treated her as he might a younger cousin. Or tried to. She’d bristled at his teasing, he’d taken umbrage, and things had spiraled downward from there.
Tonight, he’d seen that his ward wasn’t a dowdy shrew, but a beautiful young woman who would have no difficulty finding a husband.
He’d almost squandered his chance with her.
Max handed her into the carriage. When Emma pointedly took the rear-facing seat, he resigned himself to accepting her charity.
“I realize my actions tonight come as a surprise,” he began. “To both of us. The truth is, Miss Willis, I have admired you for quite some time. Years, even. But I did not understand the depth of my feelings for you until this evening. The only remedy for my agony is for us to marry as soon as humanly possible.”
Only then could he take her to bed and relieve his nigh-unbearable need to strip her naked, taste every inch of her delicious skin, touch her the way he’d imagined doing for so many years. She wouldn’t refuse him. Emma was sensible, if more prideful than warranted.
Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Is this a joke, Ardennes?”
Trick question. “Please call me Max. I prefer it. And no, I am utterly serious.”
Please say yes.
“Allow me to be clear,” said Emma. “I will not marry you, or anyone else, unless it is for mutual affection and respect. You have demonstrated neither of those qualities toward me at any point in the course of our acquaintance.”
“A kiss is not affection?”
Her cheeks turned rosy. “Apart from one single, unexpected kiss.”
“I propose you permit me to further demonstrate my affections—” Max leaned forward.
“Absolutely not!”
He halted, bent forward with one elbow on his knee. The color staining her cheeks turned crimson as she recoiled. Not the effect he was going for.
“You don’t even like me, Max. Whatever brought this on, I am certain you’ll think better of it by morning. Whereas I shall have to contend with the repercussions of your behavior this evening.”
Frustration felt like shattered glass in his chest. He had been ungracious. Perhaps he’d earned his nickname after all.
“Do you recall the first Christmas we brought you to Gracepoint?” The Ardennes country estate, where his had father preferred to live year-round.
Warily, she nodded. “The time you compared me to pudding? Yes. I remember it vividly. I am not often called stupid.”
“I meant that you were sweet and soft.”
“It did not come across that way at the time.”
He blew out a breath. “I was trying to make you laugh.”
“By teasing me.”
“Yes. Instead, you turned all spiky at me like an affronted hedgehog.”
Emma’s lips twitched into a faint smile before flattening again.
“It was an unkind thing to say to a girl who was spending her first holiday season alone. Your teasing was so bad that I begged to return to school early, even though it was only the headmaster’s family and me until the next term started.”
Max rocked back on his heels, remembering. “I didn’t think you’d take it as a personal insult.”
Emma’s eyebrow arched skeptically.
“I know I have spent the past six years sparring with you when I should have told you how I thought about you every hour of every day. Give me a chance to prove how much I care about you.” Seeing her resistance waver, he leaned in closer and feathered his blunt fingertips along her jaw. Emma flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. He wanted to kiss her again, but decided she probably wouldn’t let him get away with it a second time.
“Two weeks. Give me fourteen days to prove things can be different between us. By the end, you’ll see how right we are for one another.”
