Page 95 of Duke of Iron
He opened his eyes, gray and unreadable. “It means I am tired of pretending.”
He kissed her again, and this time, it was softer. It was a promise, or a question, or maybe a challenge. She could not tell.
When he let her go, she did not trust herself to stand, so she sat on the edge of the window seat and looked out at the garden, at the game still raging on the lawn.
He sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder. “Do you wish to return to your party?”
She shook her head. “Not just yet.”
He took her hand. “I will wait with you.”
They sat in silence, the noise of the world outside fading into irrelevance. May wished she could hold the moment forever.
But eventually, the party would end, and the world would return. And she would have to face the truth.
Twenty-Nine
“You had a grand day today and gained many admirers,” May whispered the words against the crown of Rydal’s sleeping head as she laid him in the cot.
As she straightened, she tried to draw her hand away, but Rydal caught two of her fingers in his fist. May gazed at the small hand, marveling that such a fragile thing could hold her so utterly in place. The sensation that swept her then was not gentle affection but something fiercer—a rush of possessiveness, as if she would tear the world to tatters for the sake of this borrowed child.
She bent and pressed a kiss to his hand, then another to the downy patch at the center of his forehead. The second kiss uncurled his fingers and released her. May straightened, reluctant to break the spell, and as she turned, she found Logan standing in the nursery doorway, his arms folded, and his eyes inscrutable.
She started. “How long have you been there?”
Logan uncrossed his arms. “Long enough to witness the most interesting display of maternal sentimentality in this county.” His mouth slanted up, and the smile—God help her—stole her breath in a way she’d never admit.
“You are incorrigible,” May said, gathering the skirts of her robe as if it might insulate her from him.
“Perhaps.” He leaned against the doorframe, the top two buttons of his shirt undone, his hair carelessly tousled in a manner that suggested he had run his hands through it at least twice since supper. “But I am also correct.”
May ducked past him. “If you intend to scold me for spoiling the child, you are at least a day late. He has been thoroughly ruined by a dozen gentlewomen already.”
“I did not come to scold you, May.” He let her get a stride down the hallway before falling in step behind her. “At least, not for that.”
“Then for what?”
He did not answer, and she could feel the shape of his silence behind her, pressing close and quickening her pulse. May walked faster, but she was not truly trying to escape.
When she reached her chambers, she pushed open the door and strode directly to the hearth, where the fire was down to the coals but still throwing enough heat to make the room glow. She perched on the arm of a chair and pretended to adjust the silk sash at her waist, but her fingers only knotted the fabric and undid it again.
Logan entered after her, closed the door, and leaned his back against it. “How did you find the party? Are you satisfied with how it turned out?”
She smiled. “It was a triumph.”
“Indeed,” he said. “I am surprised you did not charge admission.”
“Admission would have defeated the purpose,” she replied, willing herself not to look at him. “It was meant to be?—”
“—a gift for the unwanted, I know,” Logan finished. He moved to the mantel and rested one hand there, so the fire illuminated the sharp lines of his face. “You have a talent for making people feel as if they matter. It is rare.”
She glanced up, startled by the seriousness in his voice. Logan was not smiling now. “Did you enjoy it, May?”
She wet her lips. The real answer wanted to burst from her, but she restrained it and chose the smaller truth. “I enjoyed it more than I expected.” She met his eyes, or tried to, but the memory oftheir kiss in the garden that afternoon flashed in her mind, and her gaze skittered away. “Did you?”
He made a small, unreadable sound. “It was less dreadful than I imagined.”
“You lie badly,” she accused.
