Page 12 of Discovering the Duke

“Otherwise why would you avoid dancing with me?” He stepped toward her, closing the distance that felt far too cold for his liking. “Why would you tuck yourself behind the draperies when you knew I’d be pursuing you?”

Her brow furrowed. “Do you expect me to answer these questions?”

“No.” He gave her a half smile. “I already know the answers.”

“Do you?” Her gaze drifted down to his mouth.

He lowered his face closer to hers. “I do.”

“Please, elucidate me.” The words were breathy with anticipation.

She thought he meant to kiss her. And he wanted to. God, how he wanted to. The prior night, sleeping beside her, knowing she was there and not touching her, it had driven him to distraction. Certainly, it had resulted in him not getting a wink of sleep. Not when he kept thinking of her slender fingertips wandering over his naked chest. He’d wanted them to wander lower, to grow bolder in exploration, more sensual.

But he needed her to want him, truly want him. He’d already broken through her shabbily erected defenses at dinner. It had been evident in the softening of her tense mouth, the genuine mirth in her quiet laughter.

He lowered his face closer still, their lips only a whisper apart. Her breath caught, and her lashes swept over her flushed cheeks.

“You’re frightened,” he said quietly.

Her eyes flew open. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re afraid I’ll succeed in wooing you.”

She leaned away from him, but he slipped his arm behind her slender back to still her from retreating.

“I know what you want, Julia.”

“Of course you do.” She arched her body against his, her feminine softness to his masculine hardness. “I already told you what I want.”

Oh, she was sweet in his arms. Her delicate orange blossom scent teased at his resolve; her beautiful mouth parted in innocent longing. Far too tempting. He lowered his mouth to hers, stopping just before they touched.

And then he released her.

She stepped back, dazed.

“I hear games will be following the dancing.” He bowed to her. “I wish you luck in our wager, my duchess.”

With that, he strode from the room and left her standing beside those blasted draperies. He had only returned to the salon for a moment before Julia joined him with Bruiser trailing along behind her like a furry white shadow.

“I have it on good authority we will be playing charades this evening,” she said by way of greeting. “I happen to be quite good at charades.”

“And I happen to be quite good at the Petronella reel.” He offered her his hand. “Would you be so kind as to join me?”

She accepted with an obvious hesitation that quickly melted away as soon as they were on the dance floor. Her sincere enjoyment of dance was one of the many things that had caught his eye about her and led to him begging an introduction from Lady Bursbury in the first place.

Following the Petronella reel was the game of charades in the drawing room. Julia was correct; she was exceptionally good at charades, her sharp wit detailing every word broken to pieces and reassembled.

Except he was better. So, when the game had drawn to a close and every participant of the house party was returning to their chamber for a final night of slumber, he found himself the victor with a prize to claim.

Chapter 5

Readying for bed was a never-ending task, especially when Julia was uncertain what William would request after winning. He had allowed the servants to assist them in readying for bed before he finally dismissed them. Through the entirety of it, Julia’s stomach had been awash with a churning of emotions: anxiety, anticipation, excitement.

She was nearly certain his award would not be sexual congress. Not when he was so determined to win her over. He’d been equally as determined to win at charades. He’d laughed along with the others, but when it was his turn, he had taken on an air of seriousness that spoke volumes. He’d meant to win. And he had.

She stood by the bed, uncertain if she should climb beneath the covers, or sit on the bed. In the end, she crossed her arms over the thin nightgown and waited for William to finish washing his face. Once he’d folded the towel in his immaculate way, he strode toward her in his nightshirt, one purposeful step at a time.

“You’ve won,” she said. “What will you claim as your prize?”