Page 7 of The Duke's Improper Bride
Instead, Nora gripped her hands tightly in front of her chest. Upon meeting his gaze, Mr. Knight caught his breath and smiled. Was it possible he thought her pretty? He had never said so.
Mr. Knight was handsome, she thought, looking into his deep brown eyes. Tall and broad shouldered. His face was heart-shaped and always cleanly shaven. He had a square-set jaw that was strikingly masculine, and a fine, straight nose.
He ran a hand through his golden hair, worn short as was the fashion and parted neatly with a slight wave. His clothes were finely tailored, despite his family’s money troubles, and he conveyed himself with a warmness that made him accessible. She appreciated that about him, even if it wasn’t always genuine.
“You look well this morning.”
He was repeating himself. “You’re d-drunk,” she said, holding herself still.
“A little, perhaps.” His eyes lit up.
There were qualities to value about her soon-to-be-husband, but there were plenty more that gave her pause. Their families had always been close, and that was enough at the start. But now…well, Nora wasn’t sure about him even if he did come from Scottish blood.
Mr. Knight brought her hand to his lips and allowed his kiss linger. When he finally met her gaze, an anticipatory glint shone in his eye. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips. Their heads collided.
“Let’s try again, shall we?” he asked with a lighthearted chuckle. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed, “and step closer.” She did as she was told, gasping when his warm hands settled around her waist.
“Such an innocent,” he chided. Resentment stabbed in her belly as he laughed at her. She furrowed her thick brows.
Curiosity not desire won out. “K-kiss me.” She meant it as a demand, but it sounded more like begging, and she hated herself for it.
“An impatient innocent at that.” His fingers curled tighter around her waist and he tugged her against his body.
Her nerves burst into a strange fluttering.
Mr. Knight lowered his face to hers, where they bumped noses. He grumbled, lifting his hands to her face. “Stay still,” he ordered.
She did.
His fingers pressed firmly on her temples as his lips met hers with unexpected force. He moved his head over hers, positioning his mouth this way and that, darting his tongue along the seam of her mouth until she was forced to open to him. His tongue entered her mouth, and Nora, unsure, remained stone still.
Wasn’t kissing supposed to be pleasurable?
This was…well, anything but.
She moved her lips slightly, mimicking his movements. Instead, her mouth moved opposite and their front teeth collided.
“Och, lass!” Stuart pulled away, dropping his hands as if she had burned him.
Nora attempted a smile even if she did wish the floor would open up and swallow her.
Stuart stared back, disappointment etched on his face. They had been engaged for mere months and already he cast the same look her family reserved for her. Nora was someone to be shunned. She was a fly in a cook’s prized marmalade.
Her heart sank.
Nora subtly wiped at her mouth as she turned to the fireplace. When Mr. Knight proposed, he had jested she could call him Stu to save her from stammering. She didn’t want pity. Certainly, she didn’t want ridicule either. But that was the difficult part of being engaged to Mr. Knight; she was never sure what he meant.
Today, he was drunk. She could allow a few small liberties; they were to be married in a month after all.
“Any word on D-d-d-daniel?” She balled her fists at tripping over her dearest friend’s name.
Stuart helped himself to a scone on the tea tray, which he ate like a child without a plate. She pointed to the trail of crumbs, but he only shrugged. “No, I suspect we won’t hear anything. Uncle was careful and likely sought out a place well out of reach of gossip.”
Daniel Carrier, her best friend, had been committed to an asylum by his family nearly six months ago after rumors spread he was discovered kissing his valet. Nora had agreed to marry Mr. Knight in exchange for his assistance in locating Daniel. After all, the two were cousins; he must want to help.
Nora was beginning to have her doubts.
“Nowhere in Scotland? Then over the b-bord-der?”
