Page 32 of If the Duke Dares
One of her dark gold brows arched slightly.
He held up his hands. “I swear, it will be a platonic embrace meant to soothe your unrest.”
It took her a moment to respond, and then he was shocked by what she said. “All right.” She lowered her arms to her sides.
Moving tentatively, Acton stepped closer to her. He put one arm around her, then the other. Instead of pulling her to him, he simply held her like that for a moment.
“This is awkward,” she said to his neck, for the top of her head came to his mouth. How easy, and satisfying, it would be to press a reassuring kiss to her forehead.
“Shall we stop, then?” He held his breath, realizing he didn’t particularly want to.
She tipped her head down and tucked it beneath his chin as she pressed herself against him. Her hands came to his waist, and she leaned into his embrace. Acton wrapped his arms about her more tightly and closed his eyes. She was warm, and this close, he could at last discern her floral scent: lily of the valley.
His body began to react to having her against him. He felt her curves and listened to the steady sound of her breathing as she settled in his arms. He nearly kissed her then. The need to brush his lips against her temple was overwhelming. Not to arouse her, but to show her she was safe and protected.
She pulled back slightly and looked up at him. “Thank you. I feel better now.”
He felt something more than better. He felt…awake. Alive. As if he’d been sleeping in the silent dark and the curtains had been thrown open to reveal a bright, exciting day that he couldn’t wait to begin.
Her gaze remained locked with his, and her lips parted. Acton nearly groaned. Now, he wanted to arouse her as he was.
Was she inviting his kiss? How he wanted to press his mouth to hers, to show her that not all men—and not all rakes—were beasts.
He moved his hand up her back and splayed his palm at the base of her neck. His pulse pounded in his ears. He’d never been so focused on a single thing. Kissing had always been second nature. But this was different. This was something he wanted with his whole being, something he was certain would be life altering.
Before he could lower his head, she removed her hands from him and took a step backward. There would be no kiss.
Acton had never been more crushed.
Chapter9
If Persephone hadn’t moved away from him, they would have kissed. She could see it in his eyes and sensed it in the response of her own body. She wanted to feel his lips on hers, to lose herself and forget the horrible attack she’d just endured.
But she just couldn’t allow it—not with him. Which was unfortunate because she was fairly certain her past kissing experience would pale in comparison to Wellesbourne’s kisses. If she wagered, she would put all her money on him kissing like an absolute champion.
Shaking, and not from the man who’d stormed into her chamber, she brought her hands up and clasped them in front of her chest. “I am grateful that you managed to come upstairs when you did.” She was also surprised since he’d seemed most engaged with the red-haired woman.
“I wish it had never happened. I can see you’re still upset.” His brow furrowed, and his concern was evident.
Except, she wasn’t still troubled from that—well, shewas. But he was noting her reaction to nearly kissing him, not that she would correct him. It was best if he believed she was still flustered from the ruffian.
“You should sleep in my room tonight,” he said.
“With you?” She wanted to refuse but knew it was the only way she would feel safe, even if it did completely break several Rogue Rules.
“Yes, of course. I’ll sleep in a chair, and you can have the bed. In the morning, we can discuss what to do—either waiting for my mother’s letter or just leaving for Radstock Hall as soon as possible.”
We, as if they were a pair. “The chair can’t be comfortable.”
“It can’t be worse than the bed. I don’t know about your mattress, but mine has more lumps than a rocky field.”
“It is similarly uncomfortable,” she said with a faint smile.
He stared at her mouth. “Is that a smile?”
“A very small one.”
“I’ll take it. You are an extraordinary woman, Miss Barclay. Shall we gather your things?”
