Page 46 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
Her knees weakened, and she rested her forehead against the wood. Could he really?
The duke made an odd sound, almost like a groan. Was he hurt?
Her damnable curiosity pushed her to ask, “What is it, Your Grace?”
“There is another scent coming from you…it was there in the woods, except now it is…richer.”
Jules closed her eyes, heat flushing over her face. What smell was that? She thought of the agitation that had kept her tossing about on the palatial bed. “Is it a bad thing…that scent?”Oh, why am I asking?
Into the silence, his words fell quite softly. “No. I like it.”
Was it possible James could smell her burgeoning want for things she hardly understood?Oh God. It was too mortifying to contemplate.
“Open the door.”
She stared at the door, wondering how he stood…and where. “Why?”
“I do not like speaking to you through a block of wood. I like seeing your expressions. They are very telling.”
“In what way?”
“The corner of your eyes crinkle when you are amused, even if your mouth does not curve. Your eyes darken…to the green of the forest, and you place your fist beneath your chin when you are deep in thought. It is endearingly quixotic.”
“You are observant,” she said huskily, her heart racing.
“I’ve learned to be. Open the door, Wildflower.”
Jules took a slow breath and released it. “I confess opening the door feels perilous.”
“Oh?”
Was that amusement she heard in his tone? She clenched her hand on the door, barely noticing the ache in her fingers. “Perhaps I am overthinking the matter.”
“Perhaps.”
Rolling her eyes at her absurdity, Jules stepped back and opened the door. Everything about him washed over her in a dangerous wave of heat. There was a wildness about him that might never be contained. The duke remained dressed in a state of dishabille without a jacket, missing neckcloth, the opening of his shirt revealing the strong column of his throat. The clasp holding his raven hair in a queue had been removed and his locks flowed over his shoulders in a curtain of midnight silk.
The glitter of his eyes appeared stark and far too dangerous in the dim light of the hallway. The shock of it almost pushed her back into the room. Pushing aside the instinctive flight response, Jules stepped more into the hallway, closed the door behind her, and leaned against its solidness.
The duke inhaled; it was subtle yet unmistakable. A slight color tinged along the savage elegance of his cheekbones, and his lashes fluttered closed as if he needed to shut away that sense to savor whatever fragrance he detected from her. What was this hot, aching sensation throbbing at the very core of her body?
Jules jutted her chin and met his stare. “You must really learn to control your nose, Your Grace.”
His lashes lifted, the gray blue of his eyes sparkling with an unfathomable gleam. “Impossible around you, I’m afraid.”
She felt too breathlessly aware of him and could only glare at his pithy reply.
He reached out and pinched her chin caressingly. “Why are you here in this part of the house?”
Oh God, why is his touch so provocative?
“I asked to reside here and have been since Monday. You were simply unaware of it because, well…you sleep in the woods.”
“Hmm, the night you stole into my chamber.”
Blast. He really knew of it. Jules held his stare. “Your fingers are holding my chin, James.”
“It is the first I am seeing you without your curled moustache…and stage face paint.” His gaze caressed over her face, down to her throat, and over her body.
