Page 43 of The Duke's Sinful Deal
That she would finally see him fully, without the barrier he kept so firmly in place.
But instead, his fingers moved through his hair, pushing it back in a quiet, absent motion, and the moment passed as though it had never been.
Arabella let out a breath she had not realized she was holding.
“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low, close enough that she felt it rather than simply heard it.
“Yes,” she said quickly, though her voice came softer than she intended. “I thought…”
She did not finish the thought.
Maxwell did not press her to.
Instead, his attention returned to her, his hands moving with the same steady patience, guiding rather than demanding. When he helped her out of her nightgown, there was no abruptness to it, no sense of urgency. Only a quiet intention that made her more aware of herself than she had ever been before.
She felt exposed.
And yet, not entirely unguarded.
By the time she lay back against the bed, the earlier tension had eased. Maxwell paused, as though giving her time to reconsider, but she did not.
Instead, she drew in a breath and let it out slowly, her fingers curling slightly against the sheets as she waited.
When he moved again, it was with the same care, the same control that had defined everything he had done thus far. He did not rush her, did not overwhelm her. Each movement was measured, deliberate, as though he were watching for any sign that she might falter.
And then, just as she had begun to settle into the rhythm of it, everything tilted.
He turned her.
The motion was not rough, but it was unexpected. One moment she faced him, able to read what little of his expression she could see, and the next she did not. The loss of that connection struck her more sharply than she would have anticipated.
For the first time, something cold slipped into her chest.
It was instinctive, immediate. The awareness of his presence behind her, the unfamiliarity of the position, the sudden lack of control over what she could see or anticipate. It was not pain, not yet, but something close to fear.
“Wait,” she said, the word leaving her before she could stop it.
Maxwell stilled at once.
The abruptness of it reassured her more than anything else could have.
“What is it?” he asked.
Arabella swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly against the sheets. “I… would prefer…” She hesitated, searching for thewords that would not betray how unsettled she felt. “Could we— face one another?”
There was a brief pause.
Then, without question, without resistance, he adjusted. “Of course.”
The ease of his agreement caught her off guard.
He turned her back toward him, restoring what had been lost, and when she looked up at him again, the tension in her chest eased, just enough to allow her to breathe more steadily.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He inclined his head slightly, though his gaze did not leave hers. “You must always tell me if something does not suit you.”
“I will.”
