Page 42 of His Forsaken Duchess
“What are those?” she asked, gesturing to the chest. “And why on earth do they have blades?”
Cedric followed her gaze, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Those are skates.”
“Skates?” she repeated, skeptical. “What does one do with them?”
“They’re for ice skating,” he explained. “You strap them on and glide across frozen lakes or ponds.”
Audrey blinked at him, incredulous. “Surely you jest.”
“I assure you, I do not,” he said with a grin. “And if you don’t believe me, I will gladly prove it. In fact, I could even teach you.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You would teach me? I find that hard to believe.”
“And why is that?” Cedric asked, his tone slightly challenging. “Do you doubt my abilities as a tutor or your own as a student?”
“Both,” she said archly, though the corners of her lips twitched with amusement.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Then I shall simply have to surprise you, Duchess. Consider it a promise.”
Cedric rose to his feet and extended a hand toward her. Audrey hesitated only briefly before placing her uninjured hand in his.
His grip was warm and firm, and she found herself acutely aware of the distinction between his steady composure and her racing pulse. With a gentle tug, he pulled her up, and she smoothed her skirts, feeling oddly unbalanced.
He glanced around the drawing room, his sharp gaze assessing the newly arranged furniture.
“I do see your point,” he said at last, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Moving the furniture closer to the fireplace does seem practical. Warmer, even.”
“Of courseit’s practical,” Audrey replied with mock indignation, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from her sleeve. “What would an iceman like you know about warmth?”
His eyebrow rose, his expression unreadable. For a moment, she thought he would counter her jibe, but instead, he looked down at her bandaged hand, his tone softening. “You must be more careful, Audrey. Delicate princesses require delicate care.”
Her lips parted, a surprised laugh bubbling forth. “I am not a princess, Cedric, and I am only tolerating you because you are a duke.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding sagely. “A practical decision, indeed. After all, you married me because I am a duke.”
She tilted her head, her lips quirking up. “You are entirely correct.”
They both laughed, and Audrey was surprised by how natural their banter, the ease that had somehow crept into the space between them, felt.
But then their laughter faded, and their eyes met. The warmth in his expression shifted into something deeper, something thatsent a shiver down her spine. His gaze held hers, searching, unguarded. For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
He stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate. Her heart rate quickened as he leaned forward, and she tilted her head up, the air between them suddenly charged. She caught the faintest scent of cedar and the cold, crisp air he seemed to always carry with him.
Audrey closed her eyes.
Thirteen
What in God’s name are you doing?
The voice roared, urgent and insistent, a thunderclap in his otherwise quiet mind. Cedric knew it all too well—it was the same voice that had governed his decisions since the day he’d walked away from Society, from entanglements, from Audrey. He should heed it now.
And yet his hand moved of its own accord, trailing lightly down Audrey’s cheek, the softness of her skin a sharp contrast to the calluses on his fingers. His heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat against his ribs, each thud amplifying the tension that had built between them these past days. He watched her intently, his gaze drawn to her slightly parted lips, their delicate curve beckoning him closer.
He leaned in just a fraction, his breath mingling with hers, the heat of her weakening his resolve. Her eyes fluttered shut, andfor a brief, dizzying moment, the world narrowed to just her—Audrey, radiant and alive, here in his sanctuary.
This is not a part of our arrangement.
The words echoed, sharp and cold as frost. Cedric froze. A wave of clarity crashed over him, dousing the fire in his chest. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to straighten, his hand falling from her cheek. A brief tremor ran through him, the space between them yawning like an uncrossable chasm.
