Page 32 of The Duke Says I Do
Jupiter whined. She almost told herself to ignore it. When she’d never in her life ignored an animal in distress.
Granville lifted his head. His breath was irregular, and his hands were hot on her hips. She was shaking.
What she found profoundly moving was that he was shaking, too. He leaned his forehead against hers. Even without kissing, they shared the air between them. It seemed almost as intimate as having his tongue in her mouth.
Jupiter whined again. He’d been snoozing in the corner. Now he sat just behind Granville.
“Our chaperone has spoken,” Granville said with such wry affection that she fell in love with him all over again.
“He’s hungry.”
“So am I.” The yearning in his voice tightened those unruly muscles inside her. He raised his head and sent her another one of those fatally attractive half-smiles. “Who knew that trousers would make you irresistible?”
What could she say to that? “We should go.”
If she and the duke didn’t make an appearance soon, it would be obvious that something was happening in the upstairsbedroom. She felt no shame for kissing Granville. But that didn’t mean she wanted people sending her knowing glances.
“We should.” The audible regret in Granville’s sigh echoed her own improper feelings.
“Papa will be having all sorts of fits.”
“Yes, we’ve taken enough risks, and I still have to get you home safely.”
When Granville released her to stand on her unsteady legs, Portia had to stop herself from clinging to him. Parting from him sliced like a knife. Some reckless element inside her wanted to stay. For more kisses. For more than kisses.
Which meant it was past time to leave. Before that reckless side spurred her to do something completelyoutré.Something that left her life in shreds. “Yes.”
To her surprise, Granville touched her cheek. “Next time I kiss you, I’ll make sure the dog’s been fed and nobody’s waiting.”
“I ought to say that’s a bad idea, Granville.” Itwasa bad idea, even if right now it sounded like an invitation to heaven.
A frown drew his golden eyebrows together. “Can you bring yourself to call me Alaric?”
“I’ve always thought of you as Granville.” It seemed mad that after she’d been in his arms, using his Christian name felt like such a concession. Somehow it did.
That expressive mouth quirked into a self-deprecating smile. “You’ve always thought of me as the dullest dog in creation and too puffed up with my own consequence to admit to the slightest failing.”
“You’ve grown on me since.” Portia blushed. Which was just as mad as balking at calling him Alaric. “Anyway, I like dogs.”
He caught her up and kissed her. It was over within seconds. She was back struggling to balance on her rubbery knees before she could respond. Which didn’t mean the kiss lacked effect. Far from it. She battled to breathe. “What was that for?”
“Just confirming you like me now.”
“You didn’t like me either.”
“I’ve changed my mind about that.”
“We’ve been fools.”
“Yes, we have.” He paused. “I’m very glad I didn’t marry your sister.”
He caught her on the hop again. Before she could come up with an adequate reply to that – as if there was an adequate reply to that – he collected his hat and Jupiter’s lead and marched out of the door.
Biting back an inappropriate desire to laugh, Portia retrieved her hat from the floor where it had fallen during those earth-shattering kisses and followed.
***
Getting Portia back to the house that her father leased on Lorimer Square should have been a straightforward process. On a cold April night, nobody was out taking the air. Most residents of the square were busy preparing for the night’s entertainments. The balls, routs, musicales, and operas where he’d encountered Portia over and over, yet somehow remained blind to who she really was. After today, that seemed impossible to believe.
