Page 110 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
“Arabella.”
His voice was lower than usual, not quite restrained. There was a tension in it she had begun to recognize.
She turned then, and whatever she might have said left her at the look in his eyes.
There was no hesitation in him tonight.
He came to her without pause, his hand finding her waist, drawing her nearer before she had quite decided whether to step back or forward. His other hand lifted, brushing along her arm, her shoulder, the line of her neck, as though he had been thinking of touching her long before he entered the room.
“Maxwell—”
The word came softer than she intended, not yet refusal, but he did not stop. His touch was deliberate, searching, his gaze fixed on her face as though reading each flicker of expression before it fully formed.
“You are quiet,” he said, his voice close now. “Have I misjudged this?”
There was uncertainty in his tone, though he covered it quickly. Not quickly enough.
Arabella drew a breath, though it did little to steady her.
“No,” she said, then wished the answer had come cleaner. “Not entirely.”
His hand shifted at her waist, drawing her closer still, and for a moment she nearly allowed it. The familiarity of him, the warmth, the ease with which he moved around her all pressed hard against the resolve she had spent the better part of the day building.
She lifted her hand then, pressing it lightly against his chest.
“Wait.”
The word was quiet. It was enough.
Maxwell stilled immediately.
Not gradually. Not reluctantly. The shift was precise, his hands falling back just enough to give her space without stepping away entirely. His gaze sharpened, searching her face with a focus that made it difficult to look at him for long.
“What is it?”
There was no impatience in the question. Only attention.
Arabella lowered her hand slowly, though she did not step back. She could not bring herself to create that distance, not yet.
“I need to tell you something,” she said.
He waited.
It would have been easier if he had interrupted. If he had been cold. If he had given her something to push against. But he did not. He stood there, steady and composed, as though whatever she had to say would be received without resistance.
It made the words harder to speak.
“I saw a physician today,” she began, her voice carefully measured. “After I… was unwell.”
There was the slightest flicker of concern in his expression at that.
“And?” he asked.
Arabella met his gaze, holding it this time, though it cost her something to do so.
“I am with child,” she said.
The silence that followed was brief. It did not feel that way.
