Page 82 of Misadventures with a Duke

The other edge clicks up, and I am nearly back to missing a step. Or ten. Before she takes the stumble with me, I rush on.

“The word has always been perfect for you, Raegan…but now it is a struggle to say it.” I attempt to shake my head. “The word simply does no justice to how you shine tonight. Not just…all this.” I indicate toward her sparkling gown with my head. “But…this.” And then funnel my focus on her face alone. I must appear more potshotten than any other male in the room, but I am past caring. I only need more of her enchanting face. More of its freckled sweetness and bright, attentive light. Such brilliant life…

“You ever stop to think that you’re looking at a lot of reflection, buddy?” she murmurs with adorable ease. “Because you clean up pretty well yourself, Bastien De Leon.”

I cock my head back, carefully regarding her. “Which does not fully explain your quizzically themed curiosity.”

“Curiosity?”

“Do I have that word incorrect, as well?”

“Maybe not,” she confesses. “Well, not completely.” An impish expression frolics across her face. “I just didn’t think I’d like you so much with the totally clean face.”

I join her in a soft laugh. “My face is usually clean, mademoiselle.” And because I cannot resist, I poise my eyebrows with salacious intent. “Unless the…mess…is worth it.”

“Hey!” She pouts. “Good thing we’re occupied with dancing, Monsieur De Leon. I don’t have time to pull out my fan and—”

“What?” I rejoin, warming to her resplendent repartee. The quick and sexy wit that first attracted me to her identical version, not so long ago. And yet, forever ago. Back at that wondrous day at Versailles, at the beginning of our journey.

Of this journey?

How I want to believe it is true. How I do not dare to.

“So what, exactly, would you do to me, ma magnifique? Or…with me?”

My gaze borrows the weight of the innuendo, dipping to peruse her lips—especially when my words cause those sweet pillows to part a little. My feet keep miraculous time as my mind takes imaginary hold of my own mouth, envisioning it could drop to claim her there. Pushing in to taste her. Conquering her with commanding sweeps of my tongue…

A strangled sound spills from her throat. I edge up a slow smirk. It feels good to be the one in charge again. Knowing that I am affecting her in so many ways again. And exactly how.

The only thing that would make it even better…

“Bastien.”

Starts with her pleading my name like that.

“Oui, ma chérie?”

My senses fill with an equal petition. Needing more of these ties to her spirit. Craving more of this fervor from her deepest nature…this bond with her deepest soul. Most of all, seeing that she yearns for it too…

“Je veux faire…tout.”

No. Not just the yearning. So much more than that.

So far beyond what I hoped…

But entirely beyond what she has planned.

You want to do…how much of everything? With how much of me? With how much of you? In how many ways?

Her fear, so apparent and instant, has me shackling all questions. Instead, I concentrate on gently guiding her to the side of the dance floor.

When we are clear of the throng in that area, I tug her fully back into my arms. If it is indecorous, even in this crowd, I do not care. This is no longer about flirty physicality. It is about exposed vulnerability. Hers and mine. Raegan’s, because of the presence that keeps intruding on her self-control. Mine, because I can no longer hide what I keep hoping here. What my heart deeply longs for.

That somehow, in some amazing way, heaven has gifted me with two souls to cherish in one incredible form…

Damn it.

It is the thought so good to be true, I violate too many boundaries by letting it take full bloom in my brain—and across my face. Raegan does not miss a nuance of it.