Page 107 of The Wolf Duke's Wife
“A fair point.”
He rubbed a hand across his face, the gesture boyish, “Forgive me. I heard you cry out in the night. You were dreaming. I thought you were in distress.”
She frowned. “I don’t remember crying out.”
“You were murmuring my name.” His tone was deliberately casual, but the admission hung between them like a thread pulled taut.
“I see,” she said, too quickly, “Then I thank you for your gallantry.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Gallantry? Is that what we’re calling trespassing now?”
“Among gentlemen, I believe it is,” she said, though her lips curved. “Among dukes, perhaps another word applies.”
He stepped closer. “And what word would that be?”
She met his gaze. “Foolish.”
He laughed softly. “Entirely accurate. I have said it to myself many times.”
“Why?” Christine asked.
“If the cap fits.”
“It is a poor fit on you.”
She turned back toward the window, but his hand caught her arm lightly. “You look pale,” he said, “sit. I’ll call for breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“That makes two of us,” he murmured, though he crossed to the bellpull, “nevertheless, Mrs. Cleat will have our heads if she learns you’ve faced the morning on nothing but pride.”
Christine sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’ve survived on less.”
“I believe you,” he said quietly, his back still turned. “You’ve survived on far too little, Christine.”
The simple truth of it struck her harder than sympathy would have. She looked down at her hands.
“It’s not survival I want anymore.”
He glanced over his shoulder, eyes unreadable. “No?”
“No.” Her voice was almost a whisper. “I’d like to live.”
Something in him shifted at that, a flicker of warmth beneath the practiced composure.
“Then we shall see to it.”
Presently, there was a knock, and a maid entered bearing a tray heavy with toast, jam, and tea. She bobbed a curtsey and fled, eyes wide, as if half-expecting the scandal to ignite before her. Christine took the teapot, pouring carefully.
“It seems we’re already the talk of the servants.”
Tristan smiled faintly. “They’ve likely wagered on how long before I’m chased out.”
“Then I shall ensure you lose their money.”
She passed him a cup, their fingers brushing. He took it, still watching her.
