Page 54 of The Duke of Desire
She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter either.” She climbed off the bed and found her corset.
“It matters to me.”
She glanced over at him—he was fastening his fall—before pulling the corset over her head. “You aren’t my keeper. Or my guardian. Or my husband.”
“I’m your lover.”
Her fingers fumbled as she reached back to find the ties of her corset.
“Let me.” He turned her about and pulled the laces.
“Please just leave it alone.” She turned around when he finished. “I prefer the past remain in the past. And you aren’t my lover—not really. This was a one-time occurrence.”
“I will move heaven and earth to return before the end of the house party.”
So she could have at least one more night with him. But if he didn’t…she’d be disappointed. Hell, she was going to be disappointed no matter what. Yes, she was changed. And she wasn’t sure it was for the better. Now she knew precisely what she was missing.
But she’d try not to focus on that. Instead, she’d relive this night thousands of times in her mind.
He plucked her gown from the floor and handed it to her. She pulled it on and fastened the front. Belatedly, she realized her hair was loose. She brushed it to the side and quickly braided it over her shoulder.
“Pity,” he murmured. “Your hair is glorious.” He reached out and stroked his fingertip along her hairline.
She found her slippers and donned them. Hopefully, she wouldn’t encounter anyone on her return. If she did, she’d simply use the library as her excuse.
He brought her candle and put it in her hand. “I’m glad you came. I will think of you with every mile as I ride north. Tomorrow is my birthday, you see, and recalling tonight will be my gift.”
She wanted to believe him, and so she did. Just as she believed she likely wouldn’t ever see him again.
“Happy birthday.” She lightly touched his chest and stood on her toes to kiss him. “Travel safe,” she murmured before pressing her lips to his.
What was intended as a soft farewell quickly became a prolonged good-bye. His mouth swept over hers, imprinting himself on her for all the nights when she would dream of him.
“Until I see you again.”
She backed toward the door, reluctant to turn. But she must. Gripping the candlestick, she spun about and left, certain that a piece of her remained behind.
