down my body. His touch raised sparks on my skin, and I breathed in a little gasp of shock. He paused, his hands lingering against my side.
Duncan slid an arm under my shoulders and lifted me up, sliding me out of the dress. The tulle whispered over my skin and then fell away in a pouf of white and red.
Duncan cradled me against his chest, and for a moment, our eyes met. Our lips were close together, and he looked at me as if he were going to kiss me.
For all his roughness, he’d been genuinely protective and caring when I was hurt. He’d tried to believe in me during the wedding. I studied his soft lips above that hard jaw.
“I hate this dress,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, as if he were holding himself back from kissing me.
Did he hate it because he’d thought he’d have to watch me marry another in it? “Me too.”
Duncan nodded and kicked the dress off the bed, across the room. He carried me with him, my head cradled on his shoulder, as he opened the door and nudged it into the hallway with his foot.
“That was not the wedding of my dreams,” I muttered.
He carried me back to the bed. “You’ve dreamt of your wedding?”
“Well, no,” I admitted. “I’ve been pretty focused on avoiding one.”
“What about when you were in the mortal world?”
“No,” I said. “There was no one I wanted in that world. I guess my heart always belonged here.”
The confession made my heart pound in my chest all over again. I hated feeling vulnerable with a male who was so bad at being vulnerable himself; it felt so uneven. I knew he had his doubts about my love, but it made me feel weak to keep reaching out to him.
He met my eyes for a long second as he lay me back in the bed. I thought he was going to say something, but instead he moved across the room, light on his feet despite his big size. He rummaged through Raile’s wardrobe, and I studied his stiff posture and spreading shoulders.
He came back carrying one of Raile’s shirts. “Here.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “Here?”
He looked at the dark shirt clutched in his big hand. “What else is there to say about it? It’s a shirt.”
For a second, I was stunned speechless. He was really going to ignore what I’d just said, the impossible ass. He tried to help me get the shirt on, but despite the straining pain in my side, his touch sparked desire—and that sparked rage. I shoved him away to pull the shirt on myself. He had the gall to look offended.
His hands were still tender as he lifted the blankets and pulled them over me, but the sheets felt too cool and lonely as he stepped back.
He righted one of Raile’s chairs and pulled it up beside the bed. Then he stood there with his hand on the back as he stared at me.
Why did he have to deny the heat between us? Especially when we’d enjoyed that heat even in a dungeon? He was as silent as a rock, and maybe he had all the feelings of one.
I waved him off. “Go away. I promise, I’ll be fine here. I need to sleep off that wound—and your lovely healing.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” He had that familiar mulish look written across his handsome features, and I gave up and collapsed back into bed.
“I’m too tired to deal with you, Duncan. Maybe tomorrow I can make sense of how determined you are to turn me into an enemy.”
“You’re the one who let your father invade the autumn palace.”
There we were again. “There has to be a reason.”
“I’m sure there was,” he said, his voice curt. He sat heavily in the chair beside my bed, as if I exhausted him just as much. “Whether or not I agree that reason justifies what happened next… well, I’m not sure I have high hopes.”
I scrubbed my hand across my face. “When I have my memories back, I’m sure it will make sense.”
I spoke with more confidence than I felt at the moment.
“Mm.” Duncan said, and he definitely did not bother to feign any confidence. “Well, there’s no point in rehashing it over and over until then.”
“You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Sorry, it’s never far from my mind,” he said shortly. “Not when I know Azrael will probably be thrashing around in his nightmares tonight, wherever he is.”