Page 96 of His Arranged Duchess
She swallowed thickly, her throat suddenly dry. “This is… This is kind of you.”
“I thought the best way to banish my father’s ghost was to confront him with the living. With you.”
He reached out, almost hesitantly, and took her hand in his. The warmth of his palm made Frances shiver. Gently, very gently, he took the book from her hand and set it aside, taking her other hand in his and pressing it to his chest, over his heart. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin linen of his shirt and could feel hard muscle shifting underneath her touch.
“I was not honest with you,” Lucien whispered. “I wanted to protect my brother’s reputation. I loved James with all my heart, but I suppose my father succeeded in the end. He wanted to break us apart, and his death seemed to do that. James did not want me to come home. I suppose he never quite escaped the fear that his crime would become known, even though it was hardly a crime. The truth is that I did hide things from you, but not for the reason you think. I could not bear…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly. “I could not bear for you to think badly of me. I wanted so much for you to trust me, and yes, to care forme, too, but I never wanted you toknowme. In my experience, when people get to know me better, they pull away.
“I just…” he broke off, seeming almost annoyed to be groping for the words. “It’s just that when you came into my life, Frances, I found myself at a loss. All my life, I have known the right thing to do. I knew how to behave to get my father to turn his attention elsewhere. I knew how to charm, how to make friends if I wished. When James pushed our father out of this tower, I knew at once that I had to take the blame. When I was abroad and the letters stopped coming, I knew that I had to return. And then you came along, and suddenly I did not know what to do.”
He took a tentative step closer, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin. He lifted a hand, letting his fingertips slide down the curve of Frances’s cheek.
“I was at a loss, but I could not admit it,” he whispered. “I tried to regain control. I tried to stay composed, to convince myself that this was a marriage of convenience and nothing more.”
Frances’s breath caught in her throat. “Is it not just a marriage of convenience?”
He gave a slow, wry smile. “I suspect that you already know the answer to that, my dear. You have been the most inconvenient woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Wallflower, indeed!”
Frances stared up at him, her chest tightening.
“You care for me?” she said, almost to herself.
Lucien took another step closer, cupping her face in his hands. They were chest to chest now, and Frances felt for all the world as if she were on fire.
“I love you, Frances,” he whispered, eyes fixed on her face. “I am not sure I can live without you.”
Her breath hitched in her throat. Almost without thinking, Frances surged up on her tiptoes, flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
Lucien caught her up at once, lifting her off the ground and pressing her against him, returning her kiss.
Every inch of her was on fire. Frances wound her arms tightly around his shoulders, pulling him towards her.
They broke apart, gasping for breath, and Lucien pressed a hot, hasty kiss to the side of her neck.
“I have thought of nothing but you, Frances,” he whispered urgently. “Please, say that you forgive me.”
“I wish you would forgive me,” she responded at once, pulling back to look him in the face. Her feet were still dangling high above the floor, and there was a sort of delightful helplessness about the whole situation. “I should have tried harder to understand.”
“Perhaps we can begin again?”
She nodded eagerly. “We should start right at the beginning.”
He tilted his head to one side, heat gradually dawning in his eyes. “We could begin on our wedding night.”
Frances felt a smile creep across her face. “I should like that very much.”
He kissed her again, and Frances closed her eyes and sank into the sensations. Her chest constricted, but pleasantly so, and she felt the familiar spark of desire in her stomach.
Lucien crossed the room with her in his arms, loosening her robe as he went, and gently set her down on thechaise. The velvet was soft and luxurious against her skin.
He kissed her again, his hands sliding down the curve of her hip and resting on her thigh. Supporting himself over her, he pulled back, gaze soft.
“You’re beautiful, Frances,” he whispered.
She smiled, flushing. “I believe you might have said that before.”
“Have I? Well, you ought to get used to it, as I’ll be saying it many more times.”
He kissed her again, bunching the nightgown in his hands until she felt the brush of his fingertips on bare skin. Closing her eyes, Frances parted her thighs, allowing him to slide his hand upwards to her core once more. He moved more languidly than before. Impatient, she moved to touch his wrist, intending to hint that he should speed up his movements.
