Page 24 of The Scarlet Lady's Duke of Desire
Melody's heart skipped a beat at his closeness.
"Forgive me," the duke said in such a whisper that it made her shiver.
"Whatever for?" Melody whimpered.
"I followed you from the library," he admitted, and Melody's entire body stiffened. "I overheard everything, and I am greatly sorry for the part I have played in putting you in such a situation."
At his words, Melody's heart clenched. Instinctively, she shook her head. "It is no fault of yours. I ought never have accepted your invitation. I never should have come here."
The lump in Melody's throat hardened and she felt the tears roll down her cheeks.
The duke surprised her then. With a sad half-smile, he stepped closer and as his hand raised towards her face, Melody's heart stopped.
The way he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, sweeping away a tear with the ball of his thumb as he went, made Melody quiver beneath his touch.
"And yet, I am ever so glad that you did," the duke announced, his voice barely more than a whisper. The way he cupped her cheek caused Melody's heart to start up again, instantly beating faster than ever before. She thought that if it went any faster it might beat right out of her chest. "The dance we shared was the highlight of my evening."
Melody remembered all too well how wonderful it had felt to dance with The Duke of Haston, to feel the warmth of his touch upon her and not feel a single ounce of scorn while doing so. Best of all, he hadn't asked a single question about her best friend Petunia, one thing she had been expecting all evening. Yet, there had been no mention of her.
I should return to her and warn her I am leaving,Melody thought though she gulped, knowing that meant she would have to return to the ballroom and that risked another encounter with her uncle.
Instead, she remained where she was, practically pinned against the manor wall by the duke's own body as he caressed her cheek with his thumb.
The way his eyes trailed down to her lips made Melody's flesh burn.
"I…I enjoyed it too," she admitted.
Melody's breath caught in her throat as the duke leaned in.
All the heat pooled from every inch of her body, gathering in her stomach and between her thighs the moment that his lips pressed against hers.
Instinctively, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his lips against her own. The way he pressed his body against hers, the heat of him and the hardness of him, it was intoxicating.
All thoughts flew out of Melody's mind and for once, all she could do was feel. Heart hammering, her hands slipped onto the duke's chest and her fingers instinctively gripped hold of the lapels of his jacket.
It was only the sound of carriage wheels drawing closer, servants’ voices calling to each other in the darkness, that caused them to break away again.
And yet, the duke remained close, his forehead pressed against hers as he whispered, "Will you allow me to escort you home?"
To be alone in a carriage with the likes of him would have been a magical experience indeed but Melody could not allow herself to get caught up in such imaginings. She pulled away swiftly, shaking her head, all too aware of the scandal that could ensue should she accept the offer.
"I thank you, Your Grace," she said carefully, "But I ought to go home alone, or risk further talk."
Pulling away from the duke was perhaps the hardest thing Melody had ever done.
Chapter 11
The second James re-entered the ballroom, he wished he had insisted upon taking Miss Thornton home. Risking a scandal would have been preferable to what greeted him.
The ballroom appeared much darker and more sinister without Miss Thornton’s presence and at entering, he felt a fresh wave of guilt over ever having invited her into such a viper’s nest. It was that guilt that made him think to approach Miss Blackford to offer excuses upon Miss Thornton’s behalf. Yet, he never quite made it to her.
"Your Grace!" Lady Florence's voice was grating to his ears after her cousin's sweet, calm tone.
She crossed the room confidently, her smile as grating as her voice, and when she curtseyed low James got the sense that she was being overly respectful.
"Lady Florence, good evening," he said, forcing himself to remain polite, his entire body tensed, and head held high as soon as he had bowed his greeting.
"My father asked that I might come and apologise upon his behalf," Lady Florence explained, glancing back over her shoulder.
