Page 77 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
Trays of small sandwiches were served, along with scones and cream. Jam. Tea.
It was a lovely spread, the same that she had almost every day here.
‘That is... It is a lovely thing. A kind thing. I thank you.’
He was watching her far too closely. ‘It makes you uncomfortable.’
‘It does not make me uncomfortable.’
‘You seem like you might be.’
‘It makes me want,’ she said. The words came out strange. ‘That is all. No more. No less. It makes me want.’
‘There is nothing that says you cannot have,’ he said, his voice strong, hard.
‘And yet you know there is. You know. You know what I cannot have.’
‘I would make you forget everything.’
His voice was low, the promise so seductive. ‘Your own name. Either of them.’
She wanted that. To forget who she was.
She wanted to know what he was offering her.
She wanted to feel it.
‘I would make you wonder why you ever resisted this.’
‘I will always know why,’ she said. ‘I will always know. Because I cannot afford to be naïve.’ She looked up at him. And she was not refusing him. She did not know if she possessed the strength. But she would be honest. ‘Women cannot afford to be naïve, West.’ In her honesty, she would call him what she already did in her heart. ‘Naïve women are destroyed in this life. I am well aware of what awaits a woman who puts a foot out of line. I will always remember why I made the choices I did. I will always know why they were necessary.’
‘One thing is certain about you. You are strong,’ he said.
‘I’ve had to be.’
‘I see. Take your tea. You do not have to come and meet me in my study tonight. But you are welcome.’
She understood the invitation. She knew precisely what it was.
If she came tonight, he would take it as agreement that she wished to be his lover.
God in heaven, but she did.
She was so tired. She was so tired of denying herself everything she wanted. Everything she craved.
She was so tired of being Spartan. Strong and independent. But what she wanted to do was brief. Rest.
She wanted to be held. And she didn’t want to be alone.
You could risk everything for something you don’t even like. You have no idea what will happen if a man touches you. If you wish to run from him. If you will hate the feel of his hands on your skin.
Except she knew she did not hate that. Not him.
Still, the idea of him moving over her, in her... It made her hot, and it made her heart beat too quickly.
‘Thank you,’ she said, for she knew she could not give an answer now. ‘I will keep the invitation in mind.’
‘Perhaps I will see you.’
