Page 101 of A Duchess Bound
“I cannot be,” he said. “Being selfish would mean leaving your sister and your family disgraced. I must smooth over the scandal. There is a beautiful irony in it, is there not? By doing something truly good, I might prove myself a little more deserving of your love.”
Gerard took her hands in his. Dorothy moaned softly, her fingers twitching and aching at the feel of his warm palms against her own.
“I will wake every morning knowing that I am taking care of your sister, someone who you love so very much,” Gerard continued. “It will be the kindest service that I can provide for you.”
She curled her fingers over the back of his hands, tracing lines over his knuckles. Dorothy blinked quickly, hot tears spilling over her cheeks. “I love you,” she whispered.
“I know.” He let out a little, breathless laugh. “Do you know, my dear, I never thought that anyone would love me.”
“You deserve to be loved,” Dorothy said. “Everyone deserves that.”
“You almost make me believe it. You make me want to be a better man, too.” Gerard laughed. “But you know—everything has happened just as I imagined. I will marry a woman who does not love me, and she will produce a suitable heir.”
She sighed. “And it will happen like I imagined it would. I will remain a spinster.”
“You sound distressed.”
“As do you.”
Gerard dropped her hands and took a step back. He was so beautiful in the moonlight, the silvery lines of his face sharpened and luminous. This man loved her more than any man ever had. He was doing something for her that no other man had.
A low sob tore from Dorothy’s throat. “I want to ask you not to marry her,” she said, her lower lip quivering. “I want you to withdraw your proposal, but I know that you cannot.”
“If you asked me, I would.”
“I know.”
Gerard raised his hand and traced his knuckles over her cheekbone. Dorothy groaned and bit her lip. Heat began to grow in her core, her body awakening to his touch. “We cannot do this anymore,” she said. “We cannot be alone together. You can never touch me again.”
“God, I know. It will be torture.”
Dorothy’s breath shuddered. “After tonight.”
“Yes.”
Gerard leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. Dorothy quivered against him. She thought that he might be shaking, too. Dorothy squeezed her eyes closed and tried to force away the tears, which fell anew down her face. “I love you so much.”
“I know,” Gerard said. “I know, my dearest.”
“It will be difficult.”
“It will become easier.”
“Will it?”
When Dorothy opened her eyes, she fixed her gaze on his slightly parted lips. She tilted her head, her senses filled with his warmth and the scent of Albany and the flowers around her.
“May I…may I kiss you?” Gerard asked, his voice raw. “Just one more time? And then, I will never touch you again.”
“Yes,” she breathed.
His lips touched hers. The kiss was not deep or forceful, but light and gentle. It was like the first sunrays of the morning, when the world was calm and peaceful. In the kiss, Dorothy felt all his love and longing. She wanted to kiss him forever, just like that. Dorothy closed her eyes and whimpered against his mouth.
Never again. She could never kiss him again, never touch him again, and never again speak to him alone at night. There would be no more secret encounters. No more affection or love.
When he drew away, Dorothy ached to pull him back to her. She twisted her fingers in the skirts of her wrapper and imagined that instead she held the lapels of his coat.
Gerard sniffed and straightened his spine. “Farewell,” he said, his voice breaking over the word.
