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Part of her wanted him to.

Climbing the tree made her feel free in the midst of a cage of suitors, and the kiss at the ball was one of the most freezing things that had ever happened to her. Perhaps she didn’t ache for the kiss to happen again, but she ached for the excitement that had pulsed through her.

Her eyes flickered to his lips. Her chest rose and fell with her heavy breathing. She thought about arguing some more to force him into shutting her up.

A dull rumbling grew like thunder in the distance, but still they stared at each other silently.

It was only when the rumbling grew louder that they realized it was a coach approaching their house, and that broke whatever spell they were under.

“We should return,” Gabriel ordered. “Another suitor is likely on the way.”

“Of course,” Eleanor said submissively.

My marriage will be without love, and I’m fine with that. It will still be a fine marriage and a good life.

They turned together and walked back toward the house, and Eleanor felt a dullness in the pit of her stomach at the thought of making more small talk with another gentleman.

One kiss with His Grace doesn’t mean that I shall have to spend my life with him. It was something apart from that. I don’t need fire and passion when I am wed, but what’s the harm in indulging in some before then?

CHAPTER 13

Gabriel stood in his library, facing the fireplace that had gone out sometime during the night. The day was warm, and there was no need to relight it just yet. In his hand, he held an invitation to Lady Whitmore’s annual garden party—an invitation for Eleanor rather than him, though he was always expected to go.

The duke turned and faced his loyal companion, Atlas, who lay on the large knitted blanket by the west wall of the room. He had his head on the blanket, but his eyes were still open.

“This is one of the most anticipated events of the Season,” Gabriel noted. “Everyone who is anyone will be there, and of course, Lady Eleanor will be there too. I cannot deny her that. It would be unusual if she were not seen there.”

Gabriel turned back to the fireplace and placed the invitation against the small brass clock on the mantel.

Then, he left the fireplace and walked from shelf to shelf, absentmindedly glancing at the creased and uncreased book spines. His wandering took him over to Atlas, and he crouched down to scratch the dog behind the ears.

“It was a mistake, Atlas. I know that, you know that, and she knows that.” Gabriel paused for a moment as he considered it. “It was a mistake,” he repeated. “But it was a mistake that would be worth making again.”

Atlas whined.

Gabriel stopped scratching and looked down at his companion. “You are right, Atlas. The mistake was not the kiss; the mistake was wanting it in the first place. I have found myself in many situations with women where I could have had my way, and I chose not to. With Lady Eleanor, it was different. She was different.”

Gabriel stood up and paced the room once more. If only she didn’t argue with him and challenge him so much, he wouldn’t be so riled up and filled with emotion. It was annoyance that drove him and nothing more, but he had put himself in that situation. Eleanor was not to blame. However, Gabriel held himself to a higher standard. He could not put himself in that position again.

“Why must she torture me like this, Atlas?” he asked. “How can she make me feel the way I do? What powers does she have that she can frustrate me as she does, but I only want more, like a drunkard addicted to bad ale? Does she mean to affect me like this, or is it purely coincidental?”

Gabriel paced back and forth like a detective considering a case.

“It can’t be coincidental,” he told Atlas. “No other woman has spoken to me as she does, and no man dares. She has spent enough time with me to understand me. Does she know me better than I know myself? That must be what I crave. I have lived for so long with docile men and women around me that it bores me. She does not bore me; she would not bore any man. That is it, Atlas! The challenge of the woman.”

Atlas lifted his head and barked a warning, as if he sensed danger near.

It was Gabriel’s instinct to look around for a small animal that had gotten in, but he quickly realized that the danger was in the room.

“You are right, Atlas,” Gabriel commented. “Nathaniel entrusted Lady Eleanor to my care and not my arms. If he wanted me to take her hand, he would have asked. Not that I have any intention of marrying. Lady Eleanor does have it right in some ways. Marriage is not what the romance books or fairy tales tell you. What other love do I need than that of my faithful wolfhound?”

Atlas let out another bark, but a satisfied one this time.

“I don’t need to follow her everywhere, especially when her mother and Lady Charlotte will be at the event. I shouldn’t distract her from her duties.”

Atlas looked at him for a moment before laying his head down on the blanket.

Gabriel went back to the fireplace and picked up the invitation, holding it between finger and thumb for a moment before setting it down.