Page 42 of Claiming His Lost Duchess
Joan's grip on his shoulder tightened convulsively, and Graham could see the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure.
The waltz came to an end far too soon, and Graham was forced to step back and bow formally. Joan curtsied in return, but he could see the dazed look in her eyes, the way her lips were parted as though she was having trouble breathing.
“Thank you for the dance, Your Grace,” he said with perfect propriety, though his eyes conveyed a very different message.
“The pleasure was mine,” Joan managed, her voice slightly hoarse.
As they walked back toward the edge of the ballroom, Joan seemed to be struggling to regain her balance. Graham watched with satisfaction as she discreetly fanned herself, clearly affected by their intimate conversation.
“Are you quite well,mo chridhe?” he asked innocently.
Joan shot him a look that was equal parts frustrated and aroused. “You know perfectly well that I am not.”
Graham chuckled, offering her his arm. “Perhaps some refreshment would help?”
But as they made their way toward the refreshment table, Graham couldn't help but notice that Joan's eyes kept drifting to him with a hunger that matched his own. The desire between them was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore, and Graham found himself hoping that the evening would end sooner rather than later.
He wanted his wife in his bed, wanted to make good on every promise his whispered words had implied. And judging by the way Joan kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking, she wanted the same thing.
The thought of what awaited them at home made the remainder of the evening feel interminable. But Graham forced himselfto be patient. Joan was beginning to trust him, beginning to let down her guard. Tonight, perhaps, she would finally allow herself to admit what they both knew to be true.
Her feelings for him were growing.
And God help him, he was already completely, irrevocably lost to her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Joan woke the next morning with a strange lightness in her chest, as though some burden she hadn't even realized she was carrying had been lifted in the night. The memory of Graham's defense of her at the ball, the way he had looked at her while they danced, the heat in his voice when he whispered those scandalous things in her ear – it all came together to create a flutter of anticipation that she was trying very hard not to examine too closely.
She was finishing her morning tea when Graham appeared in the doorway of her sitting room, already dressed for the day in riding clothes that emphasized his powerful build.
“Good morning, mo chridhe,” he said, his voice warm with affection. “I hope you slept well?”
Joan felt her cheeks warm at the endearment and the knowing look in his eyes. “Very well, thank you.”
“Excellent,” Graham said with satisfaction. “Because I have a proposal for you. Both of you, actually.”
As if summoned by his words, Sophia came running into the room, still in her nightgown with her red curls in wild disarray.
“Papa!” she exclaimed, launching herself at Graham with complete confidence that he would catch her.
Graham scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around until she dissolved into giggles. The sight of them together made something warm and dangerous unfurl in Joan's chest.
“And good morning to you,mo leannan,” Graham said, pressing a kiss to Sophia's forehead. “How would you like to spend the day in the park?”
Sophia's eyes went wide with excitement. “Really? The big park with all the trees and pretty flowers?”
“The very one,” Graham confirmed. “We could have a picnic, and I could teach you to play some Scottish games.”
“Oh yes!” Sophia clapped her hands together. “Mama, can we? Please?”
Joan looked between her daughter's eager face and Graham's hopeful expression, and felt her carefully constructed resistance beginning to crack again. “I suppose... that would be acceptable.”
But even as she agreed, Joan felt a familiar twist of anxiety in her stomach. The park would be public, filled with members of thetonwho might recognize them. After last night's ball, she was acutely aware of how many people were watching their every move, looking for signs of scandal or impropriety.
“But I am not certain it's wise for us to be so... visible,” she said carefully. “Particularly after last evening.”
Graham's expression grew serious. “Joan, you cannot live your life in fear of what others might think. You are the Duchess of Rutledge. You have every right to enjoy a day out with your family.”
