Page 126 of Dukes Are Forever
"Did you know," she'd said seriously, lying flat on her back when he knelt at her feet and slipped her stockings off, "that I like your Company of Rogues very much. I like you very much too. Not the duke, mind you. I like Auvry though."
"You do realize I am one and the same person,"he'd mused, discarding her stockings.
"No, you're not. The duke is cold and serious, and keeps everyone at arm's length, whereas Auvry argues with me, and flirts with me, and he kisses me when he can't help himself. He's my favorite husband. I like torturing the duke, but I adore Auvry. He does wicked things to me on his desk."She'd pressed her finger to his lips. "Don't tell the duke though. He'll lord it over me forever if he thinks I like him. He'd wear this sanctimonious expression on his face the whole time too, as though he thinks he's won. Like this."
And she'd pulled a face that had made him burst into sudden laughter.
"The duke doesn't look anything like that."
"Oh, yes he does!"
He'd kissed her then, and he hadn't meant to, and somehow her hands had woven through his hair and he'd been crawling over her when she suddenly pushed him aside.
"Oh, no," she whispered, a horrified look on her mouth. "Chamber pot!"
He hadn't managed to get to it in time, though she'd somehow managed to find one of his boots propped beside the bed.
Afterwards, she'd groaned as she knelt at the foot of the bed, resting her head on the mattress. "I think I like your boots too," she'd said. "Though I'm afraid they're not going to beyourfavorite boots anymore. I will buy you new ones though. And I won't let Ingrid measure them."
He'd never laughed as much in his life as he'd laughed that night, helplessly charmed by Adele when she had all her guards lowered.
Imagine what it would be like to spend a lifetime with her, without those walls?
All year they'd tilted at each other, lances shattering on each other's shields and savaged armor.
But his armor was thin and cracked.
Fractures slithered through his façade.
He didn't want to fight her anymore. He didn't want to push her away. He simply wanted to stay in bed beside her and bury his face in the soap-scented mess of her hair.
To let himself touch her and make love to her, without having to protect himself. He wanted to let himself be Auvry again, the husband she preferred. He wanted—
Malloryn froze, as he realized he was musing in an almost daydreaming manner about a future with his wife. A violent spasm ofsomethinggripped his insides as he finally realized what it all meant.
It wasn't her.
It washim.
He suddenly knew exactly what was wrong with him, and why she set him so at odds.
"Malloryn?" Adele shifted in her sleep, almost as if she'd sensed his sudden shock.
"Shush," he whispered, squeezing her fingers. "I'm here. You're not alone."
The breath eased out of her as she relaxed back into his arms, snuggling her face into his biceps. His heart gave a horrifying little squeeze at the sight.
She'd been right.
He was lying to himself.
The Duke of Malloryn did not dare kiss his wife and it had nothing to do with Balfour, and everything to do with the fact that, for the first time in seventeen years, a woman had slipped beneath his guard when he wasn't looking and started carving her name on his heart.
Chapter 25
Dawn edged over the horizon, though the fog was so thick it was difficult to see the sun. After last night's revelation he'd barely slept a wink, and when Byrnes returned with news of Devoncourt's destination, it had been almost a relief to sneak from Adele's bed.
Malloryn crouched beside Byrnes as they surveyed the pair of warehouses down by the docks. Old. Decrepit. Seemingly abandoned.
