Page 33 of The Haunted Duke

Jeremy was a lithe man, and he had given her plenty of quick hugs. Yet she wagered the feel of Evander’s embrace would be very different.

Helena’s eyes shot up to his, startled by the thoughts, and she blushed. Even so, she did not pull her thigh away from his. She was drawn to him. To his heat. His touch. Even when they argued, it was as if a cord had been tied around their chests, and something greater than them was slowly cinching them together.

“Are you all right? You look a little flushed,” Evander asked her.

“I… I think I feel a little faint,” she whispered, her heart suddenly pounding in her chest.

She placed a hand over her racing heart, another to her brow. Her face was scorching, just as she had felt the night before when she and Evander were arguing. Helena attempted to draw in a breath, but it seemed the heat had stolen that away as well.

At once, Evander turned in toward her, his much larger knees framing hers as his gloved hands came around her upper arms. The concern in his eyes was startling, in contrast to the gruff way he had been treating her.

“What are you doing?” she rasped, batting his hands away from her arms. At once she missed the feel of them, and it startled her. “People might misunderstand this.”

Evander’s eyes darkened with hurt, but he did not reach for her again.

“What got you so upset?” he whispered. “Are you not comfortable talking about Jeremy?”

“No, it is just… Your probing questions. I mean… What do you know about people choosing to get married for companionship?” she seethed, the words flying out of her. She drew in a ragged breath, willing her body to calm down. “You do not like anyone’s company. Any chance you get, you stay in your rooms, or shoot that blasted pistol of yours!”

To her surprise, Evander’s ears turned a bright shade of red as he leaned back in flustered surprise.

“Is that so?” he murmured. “I had no idea anyone noticed.”

“Well, I did,” she whispered vehemently. “And it is most distracting. In fact, it has become most annoying to be acutely aware of your absence whether I want to or not!”

They were arguing. Again. Yet for some reason, it was helping her. Breathing seemed a little easier. Her heartbeat was starting to slow.

“You are wrong, by the way,” he confessed, his thigh subtly starting to rub against hers. It was most inappropriate; Helena knew that. Yet the little touch was helping her calm down even more, and finally, she pulled in a deeper breath.

“I might not like most people, but I do have some exceptions,” Evander murmured.

“Such as Damien or Jeremy,” she dryly retorted.

Evander let out a huff as he shook his head.

“You could say that they are among them,” he breathed. “Do you have exceptions?”

She was not sure if it was the argument she had started or the way Evander’s thigh subtly and rhythmically pressed against hers, but either way, Helena’s moment of panic had passed. Instead, a treacherous heat settled low in her belly again.

“Exceptions? I am cordial enough with most people,” she said.

“That is not what I meant. I simply wonder whether there was someone you would have chosen over Jeremy,” Evander explained.

Helena’s heart pounded again, but this time, she was not panicked. She felt sadness, brought on by the memory of the man who once wrote beautiful letters and sent her flowers. She had cared for him, but it was obvious he had never truly cared for her. Not enough to keep his promise to meet her anyway.

“No,” she whispered, pained by the memory of the man who no longer mattered. “I never had feelings for anyone before.”

Evander pulled away to face the musicians once again, taking the soothing movement of his thigh against hers with him. She studied his side profile now that his usual stoic look had returned, taking in his chiseled jawline, straight nose, and the scar that etched through his dark eyebrow, and wondered if, for a reason she did not understand, he was disappointed in her answer.

“I… I apologize for snapping at you,” she offered, realizing that this must have been the reason. “I did not mean to become so—”

“Helena! Evander! Would you two hush?” Patricia snapped, turning around to glare at them both. “I swear, you two gossip more than two old hens!”

Shame had color fusing into Helena’s already ruddy cheeks, and she bowed her head as she muttered another apology. Evander, however, stood and, with a grave look on his face, announced that he needed to be excused.

“What are you talking about, Evander?” Patricia answered. “You cannot leave now. The quartet has not even—”

“I am afraid I cannot stay any longer,” Evander replied curtly. “I have the beginning of a migraine coming on, and I must take my leave. I do not have an ear for merry notes anyway.”