Noble Scoundrel - Amy Sandas Page 0,110

could forget she was there.

“Mason.”

His name was a soft, stern whisper. A caress and a command.

With his stomach clenching and his shoulders tight, he lifted a fist to rub at the ache in his chest. But he didn’t turn around.

He could hear her moving—the gentle slide of her skin on the sheets. The quiet fall of her bare feet in the thick carpet. The subtle rustle of the paper in her hand.

The room was too hot. He should spread out the coals in the grate. Open a window, maybe. Anything to cool the heat rising beneath his skin.

He bent forward and splashed water from the bowl onto his face.

When he straightened, she was still there. Behind him. He could feel her.

“Mason. Turn around and look at me, please.”

He’d be a coward not to. Mason Hale was a lot of disreputable things, but he’d never been that.

After wiping his face with a towel, he turned. Taking a wide stance, he folded his arms over his chest and settled his features into the harshest expression he could manage. A Herculean task when the sight of her standing so proud and beautiful and completely, stunningly nude made his blood rush wildly through his veins and his heart beat at twice the pace.

Noting his fierce expression, she gave a soft sigh and lifted one elegantly haughty brow. “You’re in love with me.”

His heart stopped. Dead. “Bloody hell, duchess.”

She lifted the fresh sketch in her hand and tilted her head imperiously. “Try to deny it.”

A low growl escaped his throat.

He couldn’t deny a damn thing. He wanted to, but the words simply wouldn’t form.

She returned his heavy glare with a slow smile that curved her mouth in the loveliest way as she set the sketch on the chair next to her and continued toward him. The sway in her hips nearly pulled his attention away from the fierce light of purpose in her eyes. But her dark, intent gaze was far too compelling.

“It’s all right, you know,” she murmured once she was toe-to-toe with him. Tipping her head back, she sent a soft glance over the features of his face before returning her gaze to his. “I’m in love with you, too.”

His growl shifted into a moan when she rested her hands on his doubled forearms and leaned forward to press her lips to his pectoral muscle. Then she rose up on her toes and sealed her soft lips to the side of his throat.

“Stop it, duchess.” The words were ragged and barely audible.

“Stop what?”

She pressed another kiss behind his ear, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“You know what. It’s pointless.”

She pulled back to look up at him, a stern furrow between her brows. “Love is pointless?”

“Between us, it is.”

There was a flicker of pain in her eyes, quickly concealed. He stepped around her to walk across the room. Not for any particular reason other than to put some distance between them. When he rounded to the other side of the bed, he looked around for something to do. Spying his breeches, he swiped them up and shoved his feet into them.

“I disagree.”

He closed his eyes at the sound of her stern tone coming from far too close. She’d followed him. Keeping his back to her, he pulled the breeches up and worked at the fastenings though his fingers fumbled uselessly.

When he didn’t reply, she spoke again. Her voice rising. “You’re finished? Just like that?”

Fuck.

His heart was pounding so hard it seemed it might bust through his chest.

“I don’t believe it.”

“It doesn’t bloody matter if you believe it not,” he growled as he turned to face her, his arms once again crossed over his chest in a stupid attempt to create a barrier between them. Stupid because she’d already burrowed a path straight to his core. “Nothing can come of this. Us.”

Her expression was mutinous. And fucking gorgeous. He resisted the urge to press his fist over his heart to contain it.

She tilted her head and stared at him. Her intelligent gaze smoothed over every hard angle of his face, feeling like a caress. Then her features softened as she took a step toward him and brought her hands to his crossed arms, silently urging him to release them. He considered resisting but knew she wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he did his best to remain passive as she unfolded his arms and wrapped them around her waist. Running her hands up his arms to his shoulders, she pressed herself to him. Soft warmth against