Page 22 of The Wallflower and the Duke
The door. Right.
He glanced quickly behind him. The door was still open, the light from the hallway pouring into his room, making the room look so much larger than it was.
That was Marjorie. She was his light, pouring into his life, and he didn’t deserve her. It was selfish to ask her to remain here with him.
Her lips pressed against his throat, and he returned his attention back to Marjorie. Searching, trying to find some truth there in her eyes, something that would make this better.
He hadn’t expected her to return. He hadn’t expected her to climb through his bedroom window. He certainly hadn’t planned on confessing how he felt for her and proposing.
“You don’t have to open that door. And you don’t have to go into the hallway,” she said. “Not until you are ready. And I know one day you will be ready. Until then, I’ll be with you when I can. I won’t leave you. So, I’ll ask one more time. Would you like to try?”
And even though everything in him screamed “no,” there was a small push from his brain to say “yes.” Because he had already fallen apart, and she was there. He had nothing else to lose.
He nodded.
“Very well. Hold my hand,” she said, “and we’ll do it together. Look at me.”
She placed his hand on the doorknob, lacing her fingers tightly with his, and he remained staring at her, studying her face and those beautiful brown eyes of hers, the freckles on her cheeks, and the little bow in her lips, perfectly plump and pink they were. And then he felt the door turn and slowly crack open. A burst of air slipped in between him and Marjorie. She remained holding the door with him.
“How’s that?” she said.
Fresh air swept across his face, and he was holding Marjorie’s hand.
He whispered, “Perfect,” and then met her lips with his.
CHAPTER 6
Marjorie was surprised to feel his lips against hers.
She stumbled backward, losing her footing and colliding against the door jamb. She felt his pain as his lips moved over hers, searching, softly demanding, and she gave herself over to the power of him.
Alfie’s hands tangled into her hair as she slowly moved her body, slipping through the cracked door, pushing it a little wider, never allowing their kiss to break.
She wasn’t afraid. She wanted him to know he didn’t have to be either. She was there, and the late September morning was warm, the soft breeze rustling the trees outside his balcony.
His body tensed as she turned them, about to fully step outside. But he didn’t give voice to his fears if he had any. Instead, Alfie clutched her closer when she gave herself over.
She wasn’t about to let Alfie spend the rest of his life cloistered in this room, not when she remembered what he had been like before.
Yes, he had always been the dutiful older brother, the presumptive heir, and he had taken that seriously. Though bookish, they had that in common. But he enjoyed being out in the world. He had always commanded some sort of power when he stepped into a room. She missed that, and if she did, then she feared he either forgot or didn’t think he deserved to be out with the rest of London now after the deaths of his brother and father.
She whimpered against his mouth as they spun and stepped out onto the balcony. His back slid against the hard stone façade of the house, and she looked up, breaking their kiss, holding his face in her hands.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I am here, and you are well.”
Alfie sighed and slid down the wall.
He was so handsome.
When he was younger, she had thought so as well. But he was no longer fresh-faced. Now, his eyes shone back at her, wild. Her chest hurt. She wished to tell him where they were but feared bringing light to it would only make it worse. So instead, she dropped a kiss to his forehead and the tip of his nose and cheeks.
Alfie gathered her up and placed her on his lap and clung to her as he tried to steady his breathing.
She slipped her hand through the buttons of his linen shirt, resting her palm over his racing heart. She tucked her head low and kissed the side of his jaw, down the line of his throat, and dropped one last kiss to the hollow there, feeling his pulse beat against her lips. When she sat back up, her heart hurt in reverence all the same.
“You must think…”
Marjorie shook her head, placing a finger gently against his mouth. “I don’t want to hear one disparaging thought,” she warned. “I think you’re brave. I think you’re kind. And I think I love you.”
