Page 49 of How to Love a Duke in Ten Days
“I think we’re beyond propriety.”
She had to admit he’d a salient point.
“Francesca mentioned the rack as a favorable alternative to marriage.” At his gruff sound she hurried to amend. “Though I’m certain that would apply toanymarriage. Not to you, specifically.”
He crossed his arms over his impressive chest, turning to lean a hip against the banister as he regarded her with eyes the color of the frigid winter sky. The very night held its breath alongside her. The breeze died, the curtains fell still, and her racing heart seized within her chest.
Finally, he spoke in tones only amplified by moonlight. “My lady, you’ve managed to transfix and trouble me all at once.”
“I’m sorry.” It was the first thing she could think of to say, and she was surprised that it touched his mouth with amusement.
“I’m inclined—no—I’m utterly tempted to accept your proposal. But I hope I do not offend you by saying I do not know enough of your character to take you by your word.”
“No offense taken,” she answered honestly. “Neither of us has a good measure of the other to assume any trust.”
“Then let me suggest an amendment to your proposition.”
“An amendment?” For the first time since they’d met, he truly sounded like a duke. All airs and graces.
“I will be at the top of the stairs in the grand ballroom at midnight, as per the original design. I will call everyone to attention and invite my future fiancée to join me for our inaugural dance.” He pushed away from the banister and closed the distance between them in languorous strides. “You will be standing next to Francesca at the foot of the stairs, and whichever one of you ascends to take my hand, she shall have it in marriage. I will then know that theothergives her blessing.”
It pleased her that, despite his desire, he did not wish to take what Francesca might not wish to forfeit. Despite his protestations to the contrary, it was easy, in that moment, to fashion him a good man.
“That is more than passing fair.” She stuck out her hand, exactly as she’d done at the train station. “I believe we’ve struck a bargain.”
This time, he didn’t hesitate to take her hand, but instead of shaking it, he drew her toward him.
She resisted. “What are you doing?”
“Why, I’m collecting my kiss.” He leaned lower, his eyes fixed upon her lips.
She pressed her trembling hand against his chest. “But you do not yet know if we are engaged to be married.”
“Kiss me, Dr. Lane. As my future bride, or with a last touch of grace before I pledge myself to another, give me this kiss to remember you by?” The bulk of him hovered above her hand. Giving no quarter, but gaining no ground.
He could have. So easily. It would have been nothing for him to thrust her arm aside and invade her space. Her mouth.
Her body.
But he didn’t. He remained where he was, a tide of seductive grace and masculine desire controlled only by the feeble blockade of her quaking palm.
“If I decline?” she whispered.
He looked down at her hand, covering it with his own before he lifted it to his lips, pressing the ghost of a kiss to her knuckles. “You’d send me away a bleak and forlorn man.”
His back was to the moon, casting his features in shadow. She yearned to ascertain if his gaze was as playful as his voice had been. “If I sent you away… you’d go?”
She sensed rather than saw his frown. “If that is your wish, I will trouble you no more.”
“One kiss. Nothing more?”
“One kiss.” His head tilted, and the moon shone on his wound. His tongue touched the ridge of the scar, as though he hoped it might have disappeared. “One taste. That’s all I ask…”
“Ask?” He wasaskingfor a kiss? Which meant she could deny him.
She readily understood that in order to grant him the heirs she’d promised, she’d have to do a great deal more than kiss him. Her head swam, as if a fog had rolled in from the sea. Thinking beyond the powerful shadow in front of her became as difficult as swimming against the tide.
She couldn’t think of that now, or she’d do something ridiculous.
