Page 49 of His Runaway Duchess

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t have a knack for making people like me. You seem to have it. I bet Alex will have it when he grows up. He’s already such a charming, pleasant, little boy. He likes everybody. Except me, of course.”

Daphne sighed. “Of course, he likes you, Edward. You’re his father. He’s at that age where you’re like a god to him. He adores you. But this age won’t last, so you’ll have to work hard to make him love you. You have toearnhis trust.”

“I took him horse riding,” Edward said bitterly, “and I only ever seemed to say the wrong thing. I wouldn’t let him make a jump that I thought was too big for him, and he was so angry. What am I supposed to do? I set a boundary, and he rages against it. If you set one, or Mrs. Trench, or anyone but me, he accepts it. I can’treasonwith him.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Because he’s eight. Eight-year-olds aren’t known for their logic. He seems precocious, so we treat him as if he were older, but he’sstill eight. I’m not a parent, so I can’t give you proper advice, but I think you should persevere with him. He’s worth it, isn’t he?”

Edward swallowed, hanging his head. “Of course, he’s worth it. I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be different.”

She ducked under the surface again, spitting out pond water when she came up.

“You could start by trying new ideas and doing interesting things to please others,” she suggested. “Like swimming.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and scrambled to his feet. For a moment, Daphne was entirely sure that he was going to storm off, leaving her to drown or freeze or swim as she preferred. Then, in one smooth movement, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it to the shale.

The boots came next, tossed one after the other to the ground. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and stripped off his cravat, andit abruptly struck Daphne that he was standing there in his breeches and a loose white shirt, and that was all.

The desire came hurtling back, undeterred by cold water and stern internal scoldings.

There was a pause, and Edward met Daphne’s eyes just for an instant. She wasn’t sure what passed between them, only thatshewas staring, and he was standing on top of the rock like some sort of disgraced Greek god, and she was rapidly getting out of her depth in more ways than one.

Edward pulled his shirt over his head and tossed the flimsy fabric away. Daphne’s gaze, of course, dropped immediately to his bare chest.

He was breathtakingly well-sculpted, much like the Grecian statues she’d seen before, muscle and solid flesh rippling across his chest and down his abdomen. His shoulders were shockingly broad—no padding needed for the Duke of Thornbridge, thank you very much—and his arms were thick with muscle and sinew. There was a faint fuzz of dark hair on his chest, the top of which she’d glimpsed earlier, but that hair went all the way down his stomach in a line, disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches.

The water wasn’t cold anymore. Daphne felt as though she were on fire. The ache was back, and she had no idea, none at all, how to manage it.

Edward met her eyes again, but the sun had dipped lower, and the shadows lengthened, and now she couldn’t read his expression at all.

“Watch out,” he said shortly, and without further warning, dived off the top of the boulder and into the middle of the pond, splashing Daphne in the face.

She was still spluttering when he came up, shaking his head and pushing wet hair out of his eyes. He was close, but he swam closer, his gaze almost too intense to bear but simultaneously impossible to look away from.

“I knew you wouldn’t swim away,” he said, his voice low. “I knew you wouldn’t run away from me again.”

Daphne sucked in a breath, a water droplet trickling down from her hairline. She wasjustout of her depth here, treading water, but she could tell that Edward had his feet on the bottom.

“I’ll decide later,” she said shakily. “I do what I want, you see.”

He tilted his head. “Noteverythingthat you want. You’re mine, you see, Daphne Belmont.”

She opened her mouth, hoping that some witty retort would come out, but somehow her head seemed to be empty, distracted by the thudding desire in her gut and the pounding of her heart.

“Not yet,” she managed.

He grinned. It was a proper grin, the sort she rarely saw on his face.

“I think you’ve been mine since I first kissed you.”

This time, the sharp retort came more quickly. “Oh, you think so?”

Abruptly, he dived forward, scooping her up in his arms and pulling her against him. His body was warm, so warm in contrast to the cold water, and Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders almost on instinct.

“I know so,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her chin.

Then, he kissed her.

Oh, and it was a better kiss than last time.

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