Page 92 of The Duke of Desire
She came toward him, her gait slow but purposeful. West didn’t move. He was afraid to, lest he’d imagined her arrival.
“You’re still here,” she said.
“Yes.”
She stopped just before him, close enough that he could see a bead of perspiration on her brow. “I worried you were off dueling somewhere.”
He longed to wipe that single drop of moisture away from her flesh and take her into his arms. “Not until dawn.”
Her brows gathered together as she narrowed her eyes. “Not if you want to marry me.”
“You’ll marry me?”
She nodded, her teeth catching her lower lip for the briefest moment. “If you call off the duel.”
And allow Bothwick impunity? Disgust rose in West’s throat. “I can’t do that. My honor—yourhonor—demands it.”
She came forward and rested her palm against his chest. “If something went wrong and you—” She closed her eyes for the barest moment, and when they opened again, he’d never seen them so clear, so brilliantly green. “I can’t marry a dead man.”
