Page 26 of The Wayward Duke
As they walked, snippets of gossip reached his ears, each more outrageous than the last. But he forced himself to appear calm and unaffected.
“… keeps a bevvy of exotic mistresses, I heard.”
“… did you hear? At Lady Fairfax’s party, he had his hands all over her in front of everyone.”
“How are you always so calm?” Caroline asked.
Julian let his gaze trace over her face, drinking her in. “Because the only person whose opinion matters to me is yours. I just ignore the rest.” She froze, eyes widening. Before she could respond, he added, “Now show me that dazzling smile I love so much. Let them see it.”
When she smiled at him through her lashes, playing along, it made his chest ache. He wanted to see her real smile. Wanted to coax laughter from her lips and kiss away the bitterness lingering there.
They were so close, her floral perfume teasing his senses. Unable to stop himself, Julian turned his head and brushed his mouth over her cheek in the barest caress.
She gasped, body jolting. The crowd released a collective breath around them.
“There,” he murmured. “Let them talk about us over breakfast again.”
Safely ensconced in their private box overlooking the stage, he finally trusted himself to meet her gaze.
“Was that necessary?” Caroline asked.
Julian lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Perhaps not. But you asked for gossip fodder, and I aim to please. In a few weeks, their claws will retract, and they’ll move on to newer scandals.”
Behind the defiance burning in those blue eyes, he glimpsed the first faint cracks forming in her armour.
Her answering smile turned brittle and sharp. “Until you leave for Italy, of course.”
That sentence shouldn’t possess the power to flay skin from bone. And still, it shuddered through him, merciless as any lash.
His jaw tightened. “Yes. Until I leave for Italy.”
The silence bloomed between them once more, full of hurts left to fester.
“I suppose I’ll go to Ravenhill, then,” Caroline said, turning back towards the stage.
He stared sightlessly at the performers, aware of her nearness. The floral scent of her skin teased him with memories – the slide of her body against his, gasps muffled against his throat. He shifted in his seat.
Then her hand drifted to rest on her thigh, close enough to graze. Julian struggled against the madness whispering through his mind. Telling him to cover her fingers with his own. To tangle tight and never let go.
Before he could stop himself, Julian let his knuckles brush the back of her hand where it rested on her thigh. She jolted, sucking in a sharp breath. He froze, waiting to see if she’d pull away. When she remained motionless, he risked another tentative graze of fingertips over skin – an unspoken question.
Time slowed. Seconds stretched endlessly.
Then she turned her hand in invitation.
Julian’s breath left him in a rush. He slid his palm against hers, threading their fingers together. Felt every desperate shred of self-control threaten to unravel at that small point of contact.
To sit beside her with her palm sliding against his was sheer madness. He told himself to release her. To rebuild the walls between them before they fractured beyond all hope of repair.
But he couldn’t make himself let go.
Not when she shifted restlessly in her seat, soft thighs pressing together. Not when he felt the wild flutter of her pulse through their joined hands.
He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, unable to look away from their joined hands. She shifted beside him, the slide of silk over skin echoing in his ears. He imagined grasping her skirts, dragging them up to bare her legs, spreading her wide…
“This afternoon, I didn’t want you to stop.”
Her hushed confession froze the breath in his lungs. He turned towards her and saw the heated yearning in her eyes. His cock throbbed, pressure building.
