Page 87 of Duke, Actually

There was another pause. “Right.”

“And there will be no lying on either of our parts,” she said. “We both know what this is—and isn’t. So that leaves the rule about doing it on your turf. How do we handle that one? Is your room here sufficient? It’s like a hotel room, right?”

He blinked about a thousand times. “I don’t think that rule matters in this case.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve never had sex with someone I—”

“What?”

“With someone I . . . already trust. With a friend.” He scrunched up his face like he’d tasted something bad.

She smiled. He was so himself, and so dear to her. “And we’d still be friends, right? After?”

“Yes,” he said, so vehemently that it made his voice crack.

“So... when do we do this?”

The sour face was replaced by a more familiar grin. “No time like the present?”

And just like that, all the seriousness and intensity of the day, of the moment, was gone, shed like an old skin, andMaxwas back. She laughed. “We can’t bail on the wedding to go have sex.”

“I’m fairly certain we can do whatever we want, but all right.” He took a step back. “Meet me outside my room when this bloody evening is over. It’s in the northwest wing on the third floor. Do you know where that is?”

“Yes.” He took another step. She so very much didn’t want him to go. “Do you want to dance later?”

“No.”

“No?” she echoed laughingly.

“I can’tdancewith you,” he scoffed.

“Why not?”

“I can’t touch you. God. I can’t even look at you.”

“But you’re going to do a lot more than—”

He held up a hand. “Later. That’s later. I’ll see you later.”

“Are you going to go back to ignoring me until then?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Chapter Nineteen

At least I have Lavinia, Max thought to himself as he twirled his unexpected ally around the ballroom.At least I have Laviniawas not a sentence he had ever imagined himself thinking.

As was typical for Eldovian weddings, the regular dancing was interspersed with formal waltzes and traditional folk dances. “If you dance the ländler with me later, our parents will die of happiness,” she said, breathless and pink-cheeked from the fast-paced waltz.

“Grand idea,” he said.

“But perhaps that is too much.” She frowned as she looked over his shoulder.

“No, no. This was a brilliant idea.”

That night in Riems, after the disastrous dinner, Lavinia had shocked Max by proposing they join forces at the wedding to keep their parents at bay. “What if we give them what they want?” she’d asked. “Or I should say, what if weappearto give them what they want? That way we can actually enjoy ourselves without feeling that we need to be constantly looking over our shoulders. And also, your father won’t . . .”

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