Page 64 of How to Seduce a Duke this Autumn
“They are quite marvelous, being capable of doing that, to only reveal their beauty after dark. It’s almost as if they don’t want to be seen during the day.”
“Indeed,” Adam said, leaning a little closer. Just a little, so that their shoulders almost touched. “Perhaps they prefer a little mystery.”
“Mystery, eh?” she mused, smiling. “And here I thought flowers had no need for secrets.”
A rush of heat filled his chest at the note in her voice, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.
Both a good rush and a bad one. One that loved her smile and the other wilting because he had a secret.
Tell her.
If there ever was a time, now would be it.
No. He didn’t want to ruin the mood of tonight. He’d tell her next time.
“Some of those flowers,” he said softly, “must feel quite solitary, blooming only in the dark.” Much like them. Except for that first morning before everyone rose, they only ever got together at night, didn’t they?
A chuckle joined his thoughts. “I don’t think they mind.”
Yes, he was reading too much into this flower talk, wasn’t he? But there were some things they just couldn’t talk about. Somethings they didn’t dare broach. Perhaps someday they would be able to. Or perhaps they would forever remain locked in the dark, like those secretive flowers.
Adam decided then and there, he wouldn’t let it.
“Quite the maudlin conversation we’re having,” he said with a wry smile, straightening up a bit. “I never knew talk about flowers could go this deep.”
Charlene laughed. “I mean, in the world of courtship, every flower has a meaning, so it can go deep.”
“Wonderful.”
“So, remember that if you ever give Miss Martin a flower.”
“Are you cursing me now? Why would you ever bring up that chit in a moment like this?”
She shrugged. “A cautionary note, if you will. One that might prevent misunderstandings.”
“Good point.” A horrible thought, though, creating a misunderstanding with Miss Martin. Though, there seemed to be one already. Perhaps he should gift her a flower that meant “no.”
“I would rather not be reminded of her and my mother’s meddling.”
“Ah, so your mother is pushing Miss Martin on you?”
“Why else do you think I arrived with her on my arm?” Adam said almost sourly.
“It seems that perhaps you do need a touch of pity.”
He flashed her a grin. “Has the world ended, then?”
She stared at him a moment. There was no judgment, no teasing—just a note of contemplation as if she were deciding something. Then, she leaned in. The shift of her body was slow, deliberate, her lips coming toward his, whispering, “Not pity.”
“Then what?” he whispered back.
“Comfort.”
Comfort? And then her lips pressed up against his. Soft. Pure. Comforting. Every part of Adam’s body went hard as a rock. The sensation was so simple, yet so powerful, all he could do was respond in kind, his hand reaching for the back of her neck to pull her closer, to keep her in place, and let his tongue trail over the seam of her lips, begging them to open.
She opened.
Dear heavens, she opened.
