Page 50 of The Wolf and the Wildflower
James would allow her to think that. He had still smelled her; however, he had simply believed it to be a remnant of her haunting after he had checked the room across the hallway and found it empty.
Her eyes caressed over his bare chest, before flicking back to meet his regard. “Are you not cold, Your Grace?”
“No.”
She stared at him for a beat, unrattled by his curtness. “Do you wish me to return inside?”
And deny himself her presence? He let those feelings of want and hunger and primal possession wash over him, for they were sensations that no longer lingered in a dark, empty space. They seemed to take up every corner and crevice of his body, and suddenly it felt damnably foolish to deny its existence. “No. Stay.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I gathered you have been avoiding me.”
“I have been busy, Wildflower, nothing more.”
James turned and walked away into the wood, heading for his sanctuary high in those trees. An irritated sound left her, no doubt at his presumed rudeness, but she followed him, alerting the forest she approached with her trampling footsteps. The darkness covered them, and she reached out and gripped his hand. James stopped as if he had slammed into a wall. Jules snatched her hand away as if she’d been stung.
“I am sorry.”
“Do not be,” he said gruffly. “I like when you touch me.”
James felt her smile more than saw it, then she slipped her hand over his once more and he led her along the darkened path until they reached the clearing leading to his tree cottage. The paths were barely lit tonight, and the moonlight struggled to shine through the towering trees. Still, moonbeams painted her face in soft light, and he spied the curious hunger there.
“Would you like to come up with me?”
Her fingers tightened on his arm, before Jules released him. “I suspect it was not easy for you to welcome me into your sanctuary. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Wasn’t that the problem? It was remarkably easy.
…
The duke hauled himself up the tree with extraordinary grace. He had no use for the ladder, and Jules suspected he’d perhaps installed it for his young valet.
“Follow me, Wildflower. Be careful and watch where you step.”
Excitement thrumming through her veins, she grabbed onto the rope ladder and started to climb. They were several steps up when she slipped, sliding down the rough bark. Moving with shocking speed and agility, he caught her only using one arm and swung her so that she found purchase against a limb.
“Goodness,” she said shakily, glancing down at her palm which stung something fiercely. It would have been a nasty fall if he had not caught her. “You were rather remarkable just now…” Jules’s words tapered off at the expression on his face. “What is it, Your Grace?”
“You are breakable. I did not consider your fragility.”
Jules peered down at her skinned palm for long moments, unable to look up at him. There was a throb of awareness in his voice, as if he thought she did not match his strength. “I grew up as a boy. I’ve lived as a gentleman…Iamliving as a man. This is a mere scratch.” She kept her tone light, though her heart pounded. “I have several of them.”
“Why are you afraid?”
She met his gaze. “I am not.”
“Your heart is racing.”
She jolted. “Surely you do not expect me to believe all your senses are so heightened you can hear my heartbeat?”
Humor deepened the blue of his eyes. “I lived with wolves in a den in a cave for years.”
Shock tore through her. “Wolves?”
“Yes.”
His affirmation was simply too incredible. “And they did not attack you?”
“No.”
