Page 31 of The Duke Who Dared Me
“Getting a cloth before I disgrace myself further.”
He ducked behind the dressing screen and cleaned himself quickly, gritting his teeth as the cold air hit his skin.
When he returned, she was still curled up, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes.He knelt with a fresh cloth and gently wiped the slick from her thighs.
Her breath hitched.“Thank you.”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
He tossed the cloth aside and climbed in beside her, careful not to touch too much.Everything inside him still burned.Not just with want but with something sharper, more unsettling.
He’d been reckless, let go more than he should have, and now the edges of regret pressed in.
Verity shifted, tucked herself into the crook of his arm like she’d always belonged there.
He stiffened.
“I’m not asking for forever,” she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.“I just want to be free.To choose.Not to be trapped because someone decides I’m not a suitable bride.”
He exhaled slowly.“You’re the most unsuitable bride I’ve ever met.”
She jabbed him lightly in the ribs.
“And I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you,” he added, softer now.
She went still but didn’t pull away.Instead, her head settled on his shoulder, her fingers drawing idle lines along his collarbone.
Alistair stared at the ceiling, heart pounding.
He didn’t say it.
Didn’t say the thought of her with anyone else gutted him.
Didn’t say she wasn’t just his godson’s aunt or his best friend’s sister.
She was his.
But tonight wasn’t for confessions.Tonight was for silence, for letting her stay.
So he said nothing and let sleep take them both.
CHAPTER7
This writer notes that the Duke of Tunstall looks most unwell since returning to Town.Perhaps he has caught the fever…or perhaps only the far more dangerous malady called love.
- The Polite Observer
Briggs Hall was far tooquiet.
Verity’s boots echoed along the marble floor as she followed the housekeeper up the stairs, her gloved hands clenched tight around the railing.There had always been noise here, whether it was Colin’s cries, Percy playing with the dog even as Marina chased behind, laughing and singing for the madness to end.
She didn’t glance behind her to see if Alistair followed.She could feel him there, two steps below, solid and silent.
The memory of last night was a persistent phantom.She swore she could feel his lips against her skin, the warmth of his mouth, the way he’d said her name with such adoration.Like she meant something.They’d hardly spoken since.First, because they’d fallen asleep before too many unsaid things could escape, and then the early carriage ride back to London was filled with concerns over the baby.
“Colin’s fever broke early this morning, miss,” the housekeeper murmured as she pushed open the nursery door.“He’s finally sleeping, but I believe the worst is past.”
Verity exhaled so sharply it felt as if the floor would give away beneath her.She crossed to the crib, tears pricking hot behind her eyes as she bent low over the sleeping boy.His cheeks were flushed, his breathing even, not shallow as she feared.
