Page 28 of It's In The Duke's Kiss
Eight
Though only Lucian’s leg grazed Emma’s as they sat side by side on the small seat in the phaeton, his entire body may as well have been pressed to the length of hers. She could hardly breathe or order her thoughts, yet she needed to do so. She had several questions to which she wanted answers.
“What happened to your brother?” she asked first. “I thought he was going to drive me today.”
“He was detained,” Lucian answered. “Are you disappointed?”
She should say yes. Undoubtedly, it wasn’t the done thing to be so truthful about matters of the heart, yet her lips formed the wordno.
Lucian’s gaze whipped from the road to her. “Truly?”
“Truly. Tell me about yourself, Your Grace.”
“First of all,” he said, looking back at the road, “call me Lucian. It seems ridiculous for you to call me ‘Your Grace’ in private after last night.”
Her cheeks heated and she pressed her gloved hands to them. “I’ve never done that before,” she admitted, fearing he thought her rather wicked.
“I didn’t think you had.”
She frowned. “Why? Was I bad at kissing?”
His gaze jerked to hers once more. “No.” His voice came out ragged, which pleased her immensely. “You were quite the opposite.”
She struggled not to grin at his compliment. “Papa seems to be under the disillusion you wish to court me.”
Lucian’s eyebrows rose, then lowered. “Did he say that?”
She nodded, praying she hadn’t just embarrassed herself.
Abruptly, Lucian pulled the carriage to the side of the road. He angled his body toward hers, and her heart started to thump. “Lady Emmaline—”
“If I’m to call you Lucian in private, then you should call me Emma.”
“Emma.” Her name was a low, throaty growl from his lips. “The truth is, I’m not at all sure you and I would suit.”
“Neither am I,” she admitted, even as her heart dipped. “Yet isn’t that the point of courting? To discern the truth of the matter?”
“I suppose it is,” he said, though he sounded reluctant to agree. “I told you last night that I want peace in my life.”
She nodded.
“Well—” he blew out a long breath “—I always assumed I’d need a rather boring wife to acquire the peace I desired.”
Emma understood immediately. “And I’m not boring.”
His gray gaze held hers and seemed to bore all the way to her soul. “You’re quite the opposite. However, I find that I’m questioning if I truly know what I need. Does that make sense?”
“It makes complete sense,” she said honestly. “I always assumed I’d want a husband who was fun and never thought of serious matters because my mother’s lack of enthusiasm for life has strained my parents’ marriage and made my father unhappy. But I’m wondering now if that’s true. I watched them last night and this morning, and he seems perfectly happy to let her worry over all the problems while he simply reads and tinkers with different things he tries to invent. This morning, Mother sat with the steward and paid bills, and I’m ashamed to admit that I realized for the first time that none of the bills would likely get paid if it weren’t for her.”
Lucian frowned, and Emma worried her lip. Had she revealed too much?
“My father was very serious,” he finally said after a moment. “There would have never been any fun in our home if not for my mother.” He looked beyond her for a moment. “How did I miss that fact until this moment?”
Emma smiled. “Sometimes, I suppose, we don’t see what’s right in front of us.”
He glanced around them very quickly, then cupped her face. “I see you, and you’re the brightest star I’ve ever beheld.”
Her lips ached for him to claim her mouth once more. As he leaned toward her, she closed her eyes, and his lips pressed against hers, gently covered her mouth. Her heart exploded with anticipation of the rapturous kiss to come, but he pulled away, a regretful look crossing his face. “We must get to the race.”
