Page 99 of A Duke in the Rough

He’d held her around the waist many times before, assisting her in and out of the saddle. But this was different. This time, as she gazed into the depths of his eyes, adoration shone on his face for all to see.

In an instant, all her nervousness vanished. Nothing had ever felt as right as being in Drake’s arms—where she was meant to be.

She had come home.

And at that moment, everyone else disappeared.

Heat searedDrake’s fingertips as he pressed his hand against the nip of Honoria’s waist. Energy crackled and sparked between them like a lightning storm. He had no need to remember Simon’s instruction. It came naturally as he stared into Honoria’s green eyes.

“You’re so beautiful this evening. I failed to tell you earlier, and I wish to remedy that immediately. You outshine every other woman here.”

Pink rose to her cheeks, and she averted her gaze.

“No. Look at me.” He smiled, hoping to soften his words, lest she think them a demand. “Please.”

When she returned her attention to him, she was all seriousness. “You’ve never been one to exaggerate, Drake. Please don’t begin now.”

He shook his head. “I’m not. To me, you are the brightest star shining in the heavens. Your eyes are like jewels. Your lips like pomegranate. Your?—”

She laughed. Not loudly, drawing attention as Anne might, but a soft vocalization of amusement.

He canted his head, unable to restrain his smile. “What?”

“Drake, you are many fine things. But a poet is not one of them.” She shook her head. “Pomegranate? Really?” She uttered a soft laugh again. “But I am flattered by your attempt.”

“My words may be clumsy, but the love in my heart is genuine.” He paused, needing to give his next words the emphasis they deserved. “And it is yours and only yours.”

Waiting, he searched her face. “I’d like to clarify something about when we were in the orangery today.”

Her cheeks bloomed pink again. “About the kiss?”

“In a matter of speaking. Although I believe you enjoyed it as much as I did.” He pressed his fingers against her back a little more firmly, not only to direct her in the dance, but to encourage her admission.

She peered over his shoulder as if afraid to meet his gaze directly. “You know I did.”

“But what I want to make clear is why I objected to Lady Miranda calling a compromise.”

“Oh.” Her response came on an exhalation of breath so soft he barely heard her.

“It’s not that I object to the idea of marrying you. On that my feelings have never deviated. I have wanted nothing else . . . no one else for these past eight years.”

She remained silent. Fine luminescent lines of moisture rimmed her eyes at the bottom.

“But,” he continued, “I didn’t want to trap you into a marriage, which a compromise would surely do.” He swallowed, hesitant to voice the alternative. “Or ruin you, should for whatever reason a marriage not take place.”

“A reason such as my father’s objection, you mean.” No trace of anger laced her voice, only understanding.

He nodded. “Or your refusal.” He held his breath, forcing himself to continue the steps of the dance. “You did also answer Lady Miranda in the negative.”

“Because I didn’t want to trapyou.”

He smiled at that, the joy of her answer lightening his heart and pressing him forward. “After all these years, we are still of like mind. Hearts in unison, as Miss Austen said.” Wetness formed in his own eyes, and he blinked it away.

He pulled in a deep breath, preparing to pour out his heart. Simon would be proud. “But if we are to ever marry, I want it to be because you’ve chosen me of your own free will and that you want me for me. You will need to come to me.”

Air stilledaround her as Honoria fought to pull what was left into her lungs. What was he saying? That he wished to marry her, but she must do the asking? “But what of Anne? Do you intend to end your attachment?”

His mouth formed a tight line. “That is a problem. I fear I cannot be the one to end things.”

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