Page 18 of The Duke Says I Do
Her murderous impulses evoked a soft laugh. “You think I’m kind?”
He asked the question in jest. More of that teasing she found so unlikely. She was right. He rarely –never– teased anyone. His life was serious and purposeful. Playfulness had no role.
“You’ve been kind to Jupiter.” Grave blue eyes examined his features. “You were kind when you rescued me from Jim. Despite it being the last place you wanted to be.”
Granville shifted, awkward under her praise. “Noblesse oblige.”
How he wished that he hadn’t asked. He’d expected a dismissive answer. He hadn’t expected genuine gratitude. Was that why she’d kissed him? Because she felt in his debt? The idea made his skin feel too tight for his bones.
Her lips flattened as if she resisted saying more. “Perhaps.”
He suspected that she sensed his discomfort. Which was interesting in itself. He was renowned for hiding his emotions.
To his regret, she wasn’t finished. “And you stood by Juliet during that awful scene at Afton Park after the play. I’ve always been grateful to you for that. You didn’t have to. In fact, most people would have called you a fool for being so gallant. You were the injured party, after all.”
Discomfort stung worse than ever. Because Portia raised the subject that loomed like a towering cliff over everything they did. The fact that he’d once, however briefly, been engaged to her older sister.
“She deserved better treatment than she got,” he said stiffly.
“See? You’re a kind man.” Before he could protest, she went on in a troubled voice. “I suppose you must have kissed her, too.”
Discomfort tightened his gut. “Portia, a gentleman doesn’t—”
She frowned. “So you did kiss her?”
“Not the way I just kissed you.”
Portia looked worried. “Why not?”
He sighed. “Because, much as I admired your sister, I didn’t want her.”
When she retreated from his hold, he wanted to smash something. “But you still kissed her.”
He sent her a straight look, praying that one chaste peck on Juliet’s lips almost a year ago didn’t wreck his chances with Portia. A thousand apologies and excuses welled up, but they all smacked too much of desperation. And insincerity, when he’d never been more sincere in his life. “Only once, when she agreed to marry me. It was like kissing my grandmother.”
Portia folded her arms in front of her. “You say that now.”
He exhaled with impatience. “I do, and I’d say that then, because it’s true.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
Granville didn’t believe her. He could tell that she didn’t like it. He couldn’t blame her. “It was over in a second. A duty rather than a pleasure.”
“Hmm,” she said, studying him with narrow eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I need to think about this.”
Dear God, what would he do if she broke with him because he’d kissed her sister? “I can’t change what happened, Portia. I can tell you it didn’t mean anything, but only you can decide if you trust me.”
The stiff line of her shoulders eased a fraction. “I suppose you didn’t have to tell me.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Yes, you did,” she responded in a dark tone.
He stared down at her in helpless fascination. “Does this mean you won’t let me kiss you again?”
