Page 78 of A Wounded Duke's Passion
“I trust my heart,” Bridget said softly. “What of you?”
“I trust mine, too.”
Her lips were the color of coral and as soft as rose petals. If Anthony leaned down just a little, their lips would meet. Fire surged inside him, longing for Bridget mixed with the exertion of the dance and the sheer relief that she trusted him, believed in him.
“I would touch you again,” he said, his voice low, “anywhere you like. All you need do is ask me, Bridget.”
Realizing that he still held her hand and touched her waist, Anthony lowered his hands. He ached with longing to grasp her again.
Bridget gazed at him, her expression hot with desire. “Meet me in the gazebo,” she murmured. “I will wait for you.”
Anthony grinned. Bridget averted her gaze, her expression shy, and stepped lightly away from the dance floor, becoming lost in the crowd.
Chapter 35
Bridget’s body was alive with energy. As she waited in the dark, she paced beneath the shadows of the gazebo. Would Anthony come for her, or would he decide it was too reckless for the two of them to be seen together? She shivered from the night air and wished she had thought to bring her shawl when she walked into the gardens. If Anthony did join her, he could enfold her in his strong arms and warm her that way.
How long should she wait?
Bridget rubbed her forearms and leaned against the gazebo, her heart quickening in anticipation of Anthony’s arrival. It might take him some time to join her. He would want to give the appearance of propriety, so they could not leave too close together.
A dark figure appeared in the distance, and Bridget curled her hands into the skirts of her gown. Her mouth was dry, and she felt as if her heart had lodged itself in her throat. As the man at last came near her, she realized it was Anthony. He had come for her.
“Anthony,” she said, her voice barely raised above a whisper.
“Bridget.”
The space between them felt charged with electricity, like the air before a coming storm. She felt breathless, in awe of the strength of her desire. Bridget wanted to fling herself into his arms. She wanted to breathe in the scent of his cologne and curl her fingers in his hair. Anthony took a step toward her, and Bridget mirrored his movement. Her fingers ached to touch him, and her core twitched in anticipation.
“I was unsure if you would come,” Bridget said.
“Of course, I did.”
He placed his hands on her shoulders and traced a path down her upper arms. When his fingers reached the small slip of skin between the sleeve of her gown and the top of her gloves, Bridget’s breath hitched. Although the touch of his fingertips was light and barely there, she felt the warmth of his touch all the way down to her bones. Her blood was alight with fire.
“I will always come for you,” he said. “Wherever you are and whenever you need me.”
“That is a rather extravagant promise,” Bridget said, the sound of her heart echoing in her ears. “What if I want you to join me somewhere inconvenient? Or very far away?”
He chuckled and tilted his head a little. The moonlight emphasized the curve of his strong jaw and his cheekbones, and it lent a shine to his green eyes, which gleamed like polished gemstones in the dim light.
“I enjoy a challenge,” he said.
“Do you?”
Anthony nodded.
“What was your most recent challenge?” she asked, carefully raising a hand.
She touched the back of his hand and let her fingers drift slowly beneath the sleeve of his jacket to the warm underside of his wrist.
“It was the night of the dowager duchess’s ball when you had champagne spilled on you,” he said.
“Oh?” She let out a short laugh in surprise. “Was your patience with the Marquess of Thornton tried so terribly?”
“It was not Lord Thornton who tried my patience,” he said.
Bridget stared at him uncomprehendingly. “What was it?”
