25. Chapter 25 #3
“But to challenge someone over some silly slight? Never. As a matter of fact…” He hesitated, wondering whether to share the tale, wondering if she would comprehend how affecting it had been, how devastating.
“What is it?” She searched his eyes.
“When I was a young buck, a few years younger than yourself, I had a friend who challenged another man to a duel—over a woman’s honor. A silly slight. I thought it a grand idea. My friend…he…he died.”
“Oh no.” Her eyes widened, her mouth formed an o, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared. “Oh, my lord. I mean, Sterling. I am sorry.”
And why had he brought up that old nonsense, now, on her wedding day? He shook his head, drained his glass. “Never mind. It was a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “My turn.”
“But…” She broke off, and he noted then the tell-tale blush creeping up her neck. “Your forfeit.”
Oh, yes. His forfeit. Warmth suffused him, banishing the old, hated memory.
“What will you demand?” she asked in breathless rush.
A slow smile curved his lips. “A kiss, from my wife.”
She swallowed, licked her lips, and pushed to her feet. Then she stepped toward him.
Though he didn’t move so much as a muscle, his heartbeat kicked into a gallop.
Nearing his side, she bent toward him, not so much as blinking. Her sweet scent wafted over him. Then her face was inches from his. He shifted, angling his head to make himself more accessible.
She closed her eyes and pressed her soft lips to his in a lingering kiss that would have buckled his knees had he been standing. He wanted to drag her across his lap and feast. Through some miracle, he refrained from touching her, though he did kiss her back, thoroughly.
By the time she straightened, his manhood was hard as granite.
“Your turn,” she said, resuming her seat. She looked quite pleased with herself, he noted. She had every right. She had him eating out of the palm of her hand.
“I speculate you endure entire dinner parties, seated between boorish gentlemen, because someone intimated there would be chocolate for dessert.”
She looked utterly shocked. “You…how did you know?”
“What? That you have a penchant for chocolate? One has only to watch you eat a chocolate pudding to know.” She practically made love to the spoon.
The night she’d arrived, after they’d supped, he’d lain awake remembering, uncomfortably erect the whole while but unable to think of anything else.
“Your turn,” he said, gruffly, shifting again. Damned erection. One day, he’d grow accustomed to her, and her allure would lessen, surely.
“I speculate you detested me on sight at our first meeting.”
“False.”
She gave him a dubious look—but hope glimmered in her sky-blue eyes.
“I saw a spoiled, over-confident slip of a woman. The sort I learned to avoid years ago.”
She lowered her sable lashes. “I remember. So it’s not false, it’s true.”
“I wasn’t finished,” he said in a low voice and unfolded from the chair.
Her gaze snapped to him. She watched him with an expression of wary fascination as he moved to stand before her, then bent, hands clamped on her armrests, and brought his face even with hers.
“I judged you, classified you in an instant, and that should have been the end of it. But I couldn’t take my eyes, my thoughts, off you.”
Wonder lit her eyes, though the light faded almost at once.
“Of course, you couldn’t. I made it my mission to put myself in your path.
I made a total cake of myself. I was so sure.
So”—her shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy sigh—“overconfident. Since turning pretty, I’d never met a man who didn’t fall under my spell.
Until you. I hated you for that. I was—am—everything you claimed. ”
He crooked a finger under her chin, guiding her face up ’til their eyes met.
“You still haven’t let me finish, Annabelle.
I knew what you were playing at, that you’d taken one look at me and decided to reel me in like a fish on the line, and I had every intention of dismissing you.
But I couldn’t. I heard your laugh, and a smile spread over my face.
I caught you flirting and wanted to bash in the mouths of the men who had your attention—many of them my friends.
I imagined the feel of your skin—soft as silk, the taste of your lips—like candy and wine, and finally, unable to take it, left—and bloody dreamt of your perfume for a week. ”
She gaped, blinking up at him. “Is…is all that true?”
He barked out a laugh, straightened, dragged a hand through his hair. “Yes, damn it.”
“Then, I must tell you, that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He splayed his hands on his hips, vexed beyond reason. “Is that really your response? That’s all you’re going to say?”
“No.” A siren’s smile spread over her face. She rose, bringing them toe to toe, then twined her arms loosely around his neck. “I wish to claim my forfeit.”
Blood rushed in his ears. She’d spoken so earnestly, and gazed at him now with such evident longing, he didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t her forfeit, but his.
“Well, then. What will it be, madam wife?”