Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,64
father being murdered?”
He glanced at the door to his sister’s bedchamber. “More than that. But it’s a long story, which we can discuss in the morning. I don’t want to wake Gwyn.”
“Of course.” She lowered her voice. “Why don’t you come into my sitting room for a bit? Unless you’re too tired to talk.”
The chance to be alone with her outweighed any weariness he might be feeling just now. “I’m fine,” he said, and opened the door for her.
Once they’d both entered, he closed the door behind them. She didn’t seem to notice or care. But after what had happened between them the night of the explosion, he wasn’t taking any chances on their being caught, not by Gwyn and not by one of his servants. He wanted to at least kiss her, and for that he needed privacy.
“Give me a moment.” She walked through the connecting door to her bedchamber.
He heard her dismissing her maid for the night, and his blood roared through his veins. Clearly he wasn’t the only one who craved privacy.
When she reentered the room, she met his heated gaze with a defensive one. “I don’t want her waiting up half the night for me. She’s done it enough as it is.”
“I’m sure that’s true.”
Now that they were alone, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I suppose you’re the one I must thank for this lovely suite.” She swept her hand to indicate the sitting room with its settee upholstered in emerald-green damask and its matching curtains.
“Not me.” He stared her down, willing her to look at him. “I would have put you in the bedchamber adjoining mine downstairs.”
That startled her. “Very amusing, but unlikely. Your sister would have protested, I would have protested, and even you know you can’t be that blatant.”
“Can’t I?”
Her cheeks pinkened. “Anyway, it’s a lovely suite. You may not realize this, but green is my favorite color.”
He practically bit his tongue off to keep from saying that anyone with eyes would know that. “It should be. You look beautiful in it.”
“I never . . . That’s not why.” She swallowed hard. “I . . . I just like the color.” She steadied her shoulders. “But we’re supposed to be talking about the murder of Grey’s father and how it means you aren’t ‘imagining things.’”
Damn. She really had only dismissed her maid out of kindness for the servant and not out of any eagerness to let him bed her. Meanwhile, he was in a fever pitch of excitement at just the possibility of taking her to bed.
“I’d rather talk about what happens next,” he said.
“I took some hasty notes about my methods, so I’ll have to get those in order tomorrow. And we must write Grey to tell him the news.”
“That’s not what I was referring to. I meant what happens next for us. You and me.”
Her gaze shot to his. “I—I haven’t really thought about it.”
“You should. Because this might very well be our last night together. You’ve done what Grey asked, and now there’s little left for you to do until the trial. And since I haven’t encountered you in all the years since that morning I proposed to you, it’s unlikely we’ll be seeing each other again. Is that what you want?”
She tipped up her chin. “I think I should be asking that question of you.”
“All I know is the thought of never seeing you again . . .” Drives a spike through my chest. No, that revealed far too much. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”
“Nor me,” she said breathlessly.
“Are you sure? When we first met, you didn’t seem to like me all that much.”
“Because you were behaving like an arse.” She softened. “Although you showed yourself to be . . . more appealing once I got to know you.”
“Nine years later.”
“And even nine years ago.” She wandered to the window to look out over the lawn. “Our first kiss was . . . was . . .”
“Special?”
“My first kiss ever.”
That surprised him. “Really? You took to it rather . . . well.”
She shot him a sly look over her shoulder. “Men aren’t the only ones with desires, you know. For me, our kiss was magical.”
He snorted. “Not magical enough to coax you into marrying me.” When she shook her head at him, he held up his hand. “I know, I know. My proposal left much to be desired. But you did say when we were at Grey’s that you probably wouldn’t have married me even if I’d proposed more