Page 28 of Taken By the Broken Duke
“Do you tempt me?” he whispered.
“I was thinking the very same thought,” she whispered back.
Horatio heard the wet shift being pulled from its drying place and wriggled back on.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Juliet stared into the flames. She hugged her knees to her body and blinked back tears.
For a brief moment, the meeting at the mere had taken on a magical quality. It had been otherworldly. She and Horatio had been the only beings in existence. A world defined by the protective ring of trees around the still lake. In that circle, they could do whatever they wished without consequences.
And they had. She had seen Horatio in a state of undress—openly stared at his magnificent physique. He had seen her in a condition that only a husband should ever see a woman in.
Did it matter that they were to become husband and wife? She did not think it did. She had behaved recklessly, throwing aside any sense of propriety and reveling in freedom.
But, that magic was now dispelled.
She was all too aware of the proximity of the castle and of who awaited her within its walls. Horatio would not forgive or forget the damage that she had wrought on his life. There would be no ending out of a fairy tale. They would enter a loveless marriage of convenience after which she would be rejected, tossed aside.
She shivered, despite the licking flames which cracked and spat. The symptoms of the illness that had plagued her for the last few years, weakness, fatigue, and thudding palpitations of the heart, began to manifest once more. Physical exertion often had that effect. She closed her eyes, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Juliet. Are you… well?” Horatio asked, uncertain.
Juliet raised her head, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks, and rose. “Quite well, Your Grace. Perhaps it is time we found your rowing boat and returned to the castle.”
“My name isHoratio. I would greatly appreciate it if you used it,” he said instead.
“I think you have made clear that informality between us is not welcome,” she replied.
“You stand before me in nothing but your shift, and say that we should not be informal?”
To his credit, his eyes never strayed from her face.
The shift was not entirely dry and Juliet could feel it clinging to her body in several places. Part of her, a rebellious, wicked part of her, wanted him to look.
She could feel her breasts sticking to the material of the shift, knew that they would be outlined for him to peruse. Similarly, the garment clung to her hips. She kept her hands modestly clasped in front of her, covering that part that Adam and Eve covered with fig leaves. She did not know if the thundering of her heart and quickness of her breath was the result of the ailment or the idea of Horatio seeing her body all but naked.
She kept her gaze fixed on his face too, no great hardship for he was remarkably handsome. His features seemed to Juliet to be the very paragon of masculine beauty. A strong jaw, and high cheekbones that gave his eyes an exotic, eastern cast. He might have been a savage warlord. A prince of Eastern Europe where history blended with myth and songs were sung of noble warriors and great battles.
Despite that, she was all too aware of his bare torso. It pulled at her eyes as though exerting a magnetic attraction. Water still gleamed on him here and there. She could see the glint in her peripheral vision. It made butterflies flutter in her stomach, made her squeeze her hands in the material of her shift.
“I merely respond to your words to me. I had thought that the walls between us were falling. I do not think that is the case,” Juliet murmured.
Horatio sighed and rubbed the nape of his neck.
“I do not know what to make of you, Juliet. Your lies as a child condemned me for many years. I became a penniless wanderer. I thought I might starve at one point but for the kindness of strangers. Your sudden swoon left me in an incriminating position where I am now at the mercy of your family. Yet, you do not seem to be as mercenary and calculating as they are.”
“I was a child,” Juliet repeated, brows furrowing, “and in a strange place, surrounded by frightening people determined to see what they wanted in the situation. I was bullied. I do not say that to excuse myself, however. My fear clouded my mind. It seemed to me that I told the truth. I am sorry for that.”
“And the fainting fit that brought us here?” Horatio asked. “It was awfully convenient that you should swoon in a place where you would draw the attention of the entire ballroom.”
Juliet ducked her head. Her illness was something she simply did not share. Edith knew, but no one else. The illness had taken her mother’s life and then her father. Her mother had lived as a pariah because of fear of contagion. That fear had enveloped even her own sister. Juliet had only been taken in when Aunt Margaret was assured by her physician that the child had no evidence of the same condition. Those symptoms had only begun to appear later and Juliet had made every effort to conceal them.
“I can assure you that the timing of my swoon was entirely coincidental. It is not something I can control. And I do not pretend.”
At that moment, her legs trembled. Her heart raced and she could feel the blood draining from her face. This was the presage of a swoon, she had learned to recognize the signs. She planted her feet firmly, praying that he would not notice. To see the fear in his eyes that others had shown upon discovering whose daughter she was—would be too much. Horatio’s eyes narrowed and he took a step closer.
“You have paled and you are trembling. What is wrong?”
