Page 21 of Love, the Duke
The duke leaned farther over her nape, causing his muscle-hard chest to press against her back. She was aware of his every breath as he whispered softly, “Let me help you.”
Let me help you.
Those were the words she’d longed to hear him say from her first thoughts of seeking him out. For a fleeting moment it was as if her dream had come true. The duke was going to help her find the chalice so Winston’s legacy wouldn’t be damaged. For a moment she soaked in his words and relished the prospect of his help.
But rational thoughts invaded, her fantasy faded quickly, and she stifled a groan. That wasn’t what he meant. He only wanted to free her hair—not her brother from the threat of being labeled a thief. Her pride was in shambles, and her head sore. Her elbow was hurting.She once again surrendered and accepted the only help he was offering.
Inhaling deeply as her fingers fell away from his, she lowered her arms and remained still as possible. It wasn’t easy. His touch was tender and welcomed as seemingly strand by strand he took his time.
“Your hair feels like silk, Miss Stowe.”
“That’s very kind of you, but I hope this will be over soon.”
He chuckled so softly she wasn’t even sure it was one. But at last, she felt the final tug and she was freed to face him without a pinpoint of pain as she straightened.
With them still on their knees in front of each other, a sense of anticipation erupted inside her. She lifted her head and met his amazing green eyes. They were filled with lively sparkles of interest as he stared into hers. His penetrating gaze made her heartbeat pound harder in her ears and something delicious tingle inside her.
That now familiar fluttering started in her chest as it so often did when she looked at him or simply thought of him. Heat flared into her cheeks as awakening feelings of desire sprouted and blossomed like a rose unfurling its petals. She remembered the calming words, the quiet power of his hand and gentleness of his fingers. She wanted to feel that again.
He leaned toward her, moving his face closer and closer to hers. It felt as if she were taking every breath he took as his lips descended toward hers. The thought he was going to kiss her flashed across her mind as swift as a lightning strike.
What should she do?
She was attracted to this man. Desirous feelings of excitement were bursting all over her. The problem was shewasn’t worldly enough to know how to act upon them or what to do about all she was experiencing. This wasn’t one of the things that had been a part of her extensive education.
Ophelia had always expected her first stirrings of that ethereal feeling of passion for a man would be for a modestly clothed, doe-eyed, gently spoken man much like her father and brother.
But she’d never thought about the possibility of being attracted to the most irritating, brash, and handsome man in all of England. Probably the world too. And a duke at that. She loved the feelings she was having and wanted more of them. There was no doubt she was thinking about the real possibility of him kissing her right now. On her lips. Not the forehead as her father had always done.
“Miss Stowe,” the duke whispered, with his lips so close to hers she felt his breath sweep across her cheek and flutter against her eyes. “If you lean any closer to me you are going to topple us both. If you want a kiss that much, all you have to do is ask, and I will be happy to honor your request.”
Merciful angels!Quickly, she settled back on her legs. Was it possible that what he said was true? Was she the one who had been moving toward him?
Probably. He’d caught her in a defenseless moment and seen her in an inconceivable state. His rescuing had made her think about warm embraces, sweet kisses, and soft touches. The sight of him made her think about being cuddled against his chest. The intensity in his expression made her wonder if he might be sensing some of the same feelings that affected her.
“I fear I might be a little dizzy from being trapped in that small space,” she answered. She mentally shook herself and looked away from the duke, fighting to regainthe abiding calm she used to be able to accomplish with ease and take pride in doing so.
“Then don’t fight me anymore, Miss Stowe. Let me help you stand and get back your balance.”
His smile was so tender she agreed without complaint. The duke gently took ahold of her elbow, the one she’d banged, but she forced herself not to wince as he helped her to stand.
Through everything she was feeling, she would maintain some pretense of gentility and remain seemingly unflustered as her brother, father, and mother had always expected of her no matter how difficult, unpleasant, or embarrassing the circumstances may be. “Decorum is more important than anything,” her father used to say. And of course he was right.
So, after inhaling a deep breath, she straightened her dress and smoothed her hair, and then drew back her hand and slapped him.
