Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Josephine didn't know if it was the wine going to her head or the smooth delivery of his last line that had her feeling so out of sorts, but she felt positively flushed as the duke took her hand. What had seemed like an innocent gesture before suddenly felt sinful, her bodice too tight and her entire body aflame with a heat that she didn't know how to endure.

"It was an honest one," he answered with a shrug, as if unaffected at all by the flames that licked at Josephine. "A page out of your book," he teased. "Forthright. Too much so?"

Josephine could only shake her head, fighting to keep from biting down too hard on her tongue and swallowing it whole.

"I don't think I've read that genre before," she quipped, trying to ease the tension growing inside her. "Honest books … I don't imagine it would apply to any fictional work, do you?"

The duke laughed, his penetrating green eyes lighting with mirth as he shook his head. "I always preferred an adventure if I was reading fiction."

"And I wouldn't think you read at all saying such sacrilege as taking pages out." Josephine leaned forward despite herself, the corners of her lips twitching as she watched that amusement grow even further in the duke's features.

"Spoken like a true aficionado," he snorted. "Other than honest books, if such things exist, what is it that you prefer, Lady Josephine?"

"Walter Scott, if we're talking about highland adventures," Josephine answered after a moment's pause. "Mary Shelley, certainly, though I know many men won't deign to read her, and I doubt very much that she could be classified as an adventure."

The duke's eyebrows rose with each sentence, his expression becoming almost appreciative as he appraised her anew. "No, I don't think adventure would suit," he agreed musingly. "Gothic, certainly."

"Well, if we're opening up that category, I rather imagine Horace Walpole must certainly be mentioned." Josephine laughed.

"After naming two favourites of mine already, Lady Josephine, I'd honestly be heartbroken were dear Horace not also mentioned." The duke grinned as his thumb traced small circles against the back of her hand, his body angling better to face Josephine, and she found herself drawn all the closer to him for it.

"Just Josephine," she insisted after a moment, enthralled by the topic and their shared fervour.

"Well, Just Josephine," he drew out, his lips twitching, "I only have one further question for you." He paused, his silence weighted as she leaned in once more. "E. T. A. Hoffmann?"

"Required reading." She laughed, her fingers tightening around his slightly. "Intrigue, scandal, magic, and a snake that turns into a woman? You weren't lying when you said that adventure was your preferred genre clearly."

"Ah, The Golden Pot. If I had any doubt about our match, I'd be very relieved by your being able to summarize that plot so efficiently."

"And did you?" Josephine asked before she could catch herself.

"Did I?"

"Have any doubts about our match?"

The duke paused, regarding her more seriously as his thumb slowed against the back of her hand. "I imagine I'd be a much simpler man if I hadn't," he confessed after a moment. "Or perhaps I'm overly optimistic in thinking that our meetings thus far have only proven our compatibility."

"Shown indisputably by our shared taste in literature," Josephine teased.

The duke snorted. "As far as tests go, I think that is a rather important one, don't you?"

"Of course, Your Grace."

"Just Henry."

"Well, Just Henry," she teased in turn, fighting that rush that saying his name brought. "I do actually agree. Especially considering how much more it seems we've found common ground on so quickly. But then, I'm not sure I'd know for certain."

"You wouldn't know compatibility?"

She didn't know why he sounded so surprised. He knew that she was unmarried; that was the point of this whole venture.

"Did you imagine I had some secret husband sequestered away?" she teased, shifting on the couch to try and hide her discomfort again behind humour.

"No, no husband. But no suitors? No previous attachment of any kind?"

She didn't understand the secondary note in his voice or the way in which his eyes had sharpened. She felt rather suddenly put on the spot, her chest tight as she shook her head.

"I know that it is rather hard to believe at three and twenty. I hope you will not count it against me. I did tell you that I had concerned myself more with my parents and my father's estate–" and her only forays out into society had been for her sisters coming out.

Henry's fingers tightened against hers, a strange look overcoming him as he cleared his throat.

"Well, in the interest of being forthright," he muttered, his gaze breaking from hers to look beyond her to where she knew her parents were seated. "It behooves me to tell you that it isn't unappreciated information for most men to find out that they are a woman's first."

First? He couldn't mean – oh, no, he clearly didn't, though Josephine was sure she was already a bright magenta at having even thought it.

He just meant what any man might have. She knew her sisters had entertained a handful of whispered nothings and stolen kisses before finding their intended.

Her brother a good deal more than that even.

"Yes, well, I don't suppose it is much like a tour of the house," she joked, her throat tight and that wine gone fully to her head.

"The tour of the house?" The duke – Henry – stopped, his eyebrows lifting as his gaze shot to her lips and then back up to her eyes.

She knew it was a scandalous thing to imply. She didn't even know why she had, really, other than to try and make him laugh again. Anything to dismiss that heat licking at her belly once more or the heaviness of her limbs to subside somewhat.

His sitting so near had her thoughts racing too quickly for her to rightly keep up with.

His eyes shot behind her again, his lips twitching somewhat before he shifted, bringing them just slightly closer on the loveseat.

"There's nothing to say that it couldn't be," he murmured, his gaze falling back upon hers with an intensity that sent her heart racing.

"I – You – What?"

Josephine could hardly form words.

He was looking at her lips again.

His hand, which had been holding hers, had lifted, the tips of his fingers brushing over her cheekbone and causing the blush there to deepen even further.

He couldn't be suggesting that it could be.

But he was.

She knew him well enough to know that he was. The heat in his gaze was undeniable as he leaned in, his breath fanning out over the lower portion of her face.

How was his simply breathing on her so attractive?

Her breath caught in the back of her throat, her eyes dropping to his lips as she tried to imagine any reason she ought to tell him no. But practicality and reason had taken a backseat in her mind, emotion and desire galloping to the forefront as those fingers drifted down her cheek to hold her chin in place.

"You are allowed to say no," he whispered, his lips so close that she could feel their phantom press against hers with each syllable as he spoke.

"I don't think I want to," she whispered.

And he took that as permission enough.

His lips slanted over hers, the barest pressure behind them as she quickly shut her eyes and tried to think beyond the rush of blood that rushed to her head.

He tasted like a deep, woody citrus and port, his lips parting slightly as he moved them expertly over hers.

Tentatively, she returned the pressure, her hand lifting to fall uncertainly on the wrist in front of her face.

But as she attempted to kiss him back, something shifted between them.

She felt more than heard his ragged inhale, his lips pressing harder against hers, and the way that he held her face shifting. His lips weren't tentative or gentle, a pressure behind them that took the very last of her breath away as he made her head spin. Her blood pounded, her stomach tightening inexplicably as he pulled her bottom lip between his two, tugging at the skin until she felt something deepen within her.

Her gasp was swallowed by his lips, her fingers tightening around his wrist as his passion carried both of them away.

She didn't recognize the soft sound that left her lips as he pulled away, his green eyes wild as he stared down at her.

She knew she was leaning forward and had followed him as he pulled back. And by the way he was looking at her, he knew it as well.

And he didn't seem any more eager to end what he had just started.

Only the sound of her mother's oblivious laughter from the other side of the room kept her from attempting to do something very unladylike and trying to initiate such a thing again.