Page 81 of A Highly Unlikely Duchess
"You carry it..." she said. "...extremely loudly."
He laughed. The real one. Short and genuine, she felt it in the place below her ribs where, apparently, Theodore Merrick had taken up permanent residence without asking permission.
Then the laugh faded, and he looked at her, and it was the real look, the one she had been collecting for months, the one that had no performance in it at all.
"I have been an idiot," he said.
"Yes," she said.
"A spectacular one."
"Quite."
"Emily." He said her name. "I love you."
The silence that followed his confession was not empty; it was heavy and shimmering, like the air right before a summer storm breaks. Theodore’s hands moved from her shoulders to cradle her face again, his palms warm against her skin. He looked at her as if he were seeing her for the very first time, stripped of the armor they had both worn like lead.
"I love you," he repeated, the words sounding more certain, more grounded. "I love your temper, I love your sharp wit, and I love the way you’ve turned my life into something I actually want to live in."
Emily felt the last of her defenses dissolve. The heartache of the past weeks, the terror of the night, and the long, cold months of uncertainty melted away in the heat of his gaze. A soft, breathless laugh escaped her lips, her eyes shining with a mixture of relief and a burgeoning, beautiful joy.
"I..." she whispered, her hands sliding up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until their breaths mingled. "It seems I am also in love."
Theodore’s brow arched. "Are you, now?"
"Yes," she teased. "I am in love with a very... foolish man."
"That I am," he murmured, his eyes dropping to her lips.
"But he is my foolish man," she added softly. "I don't think I could ever love anyone else this much."
Theodore didn't wait for her to say another word. He surged forward, his large hands sliding from her face to bury themselves deep in her hair, his fingers tangling in the loose curls at the nape of her neck to tilt her head back. When his mouth finally crashed against hers, it wasn't the polite, careful kiss she expected; it was a desperate, starving reclamation.
Emily’s breath left her in a sharp, muffled gasp as the heat of him consumed her. The scent of rain, expensive tobacco, and pure adrenaline flooded her senses, making her head spin. His lips were soft but demanding, moving over hers with a rhythmic, intense pressure that seemed to ask for everything she had been holding back.
She felt a frantic tingle ignite in the center of her chest, racing like wildfire down her spine and pooling in her fingertips. Her hands, acting on a frantic instinct of their own, gripped the lapels of his heavy coat, pulling him closer until there wasn't a whisper of air between them. She could feel the rapid, thundering drum of his heart against her breasts, a frantic tempo that matched the rush of blood in her ears.
As his tongue traced the seam of her lips, a jolt of pure electricity shot through her, leaving her knees weak. She leaned into him heavily, her body molding against the hard planes of his chest and thighs. The world around them simply ceased to exist. There was only the friction of his stubble against her skin, the dampsilk of his cravat beneath her knuckles, and the intoxicating, dizzying weight of being wanted.
She felt small in his arms. Every time his lips pulled away for a fraction of a second only to return more hungrily, a soft, helpless whimper caught in her throat. Her lungs burned for air she didn't want to take, her entire being focused on the way he was breathing her in, as if he were trying to pull her very soul into his own.
When he finally broke the kiss, his lips stayed hovering just a hair’s breadth from hers, both of them panting, their breaths mingling in the air. Emily could only cling to him, her eyes closed, her skin humming with terrifying certainty, would never truly fade.
Then, his touch shifted. Instead of pulling away, Theodore began to trace the bridge of her nose and her cheeks with the lightest, most reverent kisses, his lips lingering on every tiny sunspot, every freckle. It was as if he were memorizing a map of her face with his lips, his thumb grazing her cheekbone tenderly.
Theodore kept his forehead resting against hers when he finally stopped, his eyes closed as he fought to steady his ragged breathing. A small, boyish grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, one she had never seen before.
"That was..." He paused and slowly opened his eyes. "That was truly remarkable, Emily."
Emily didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which were still slightly parted and flushed from the heat of their kiss. The proximity was intoxicating, the air between them still vibrating with the ghost of their touch.
"Do you want to do it again?" she whispered, leaning a bit forward.
A low, rich chuckle vibrated in Theodore’s chest, the sound warm and grounding against her own heart. He squeezed her waist gently, his eyes fluttering open to meet hers with a look of pure, unadulterated affection.
"In a moment, my love," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of her lower lip. "I just need to catch my breath first.”
Emily smiled, a deep sense of peace finally settling over her. As she watched him straighten his coat, the frantic terror that had consumed her since Frederick’s leaving began to recede, replaced by a steel-cold confidence. For the first time in weeks, she didn't feel like a woman holding back the tide with her bare hands; she felt protected, cherished, and certain that as long as he stood beside her, everything would be well.
