Page 77 of Bound By the Duke

They walked on. This time, she spoke, wanting to break the silence as her mind went back to Lottie.

“I was thinking.” Her voice grew steadier. “That perhaps we might… spend more time together. Not just you and me.” She tore her gaze away from him and fixed it on the roses, her breath shaky. “I mean all of us. You, Lottie, and me.”

No reply.

Her stomach twisted, but she pressed on nonetheless. “Perhaps one day could be set aside. Only for us. No duties, no expectations. Just… family.” She swallowed, the word catching in her throat. “Perhaps in the gardens. Lottie loves the outdoors. She can play, run as she pleases, laugh as she deserves to laugh.We might spread a blanket and share bread, fruit, jam…” Her lips curved faintly. “I could even attempt baking. Though I warn you, I am more likely to poison than impress.”

Something flickered across his face, his lips curving.

His reaction didn’t escape her notice. It seized her heart, allowing her to slow her steps.

For the first time, she saw it. The wide curve of a smile. Not cruel, not restrained, but a genuine one, with dimples she had never noticed before.

It was so slight, so precious.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice hushed.

His eyes flicked to her. “What is what?”

“That smile.” Her heart thudded. “I’ve never seen it before. Not like that.” She tilted her head, searching his face as though it might reveal his secrets. “Tell me what thought brought it out, so I might share it.”

His gaze locked onto hers. For a heartbeat, she thought he would indulge her. Instead, he said, “We will do it.”

Her breath caught. “We will?”

He nodded once firmly. “The picnic. The games. Whatever you wish.”

Warmth bloomed in her chest. “Really?”

“Really.”

Without thinking twice, she leaned toward him.

“Thank you,” she breathed, with gratitude, relief, awe, andhunger.

Her eyes trailed over his face, unable to look away.

Without giving it much thought, she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was soft, clumsy, desperate. A kiss stolen from the edge of madness.

Percival went still. Very still. His body stiffened against her, his heart pounding beneath her palms. But his lips did not move, and his silence caused cold dread to coil in her stomach.

Her smile faltered. Her cheeks burned with shame, and she dropped her hands.

Her lashes lowered. She had made a mistake.

“I—I shouldn’t have—” she whispered, pulling back.

But she went no further. She couldn’t because he didn’t allow it.

His hands grabbed her waist so suddenly, before yanking her against him. She gasped as his mouth crashed onto hers in a devastating kiss.

There was no tenderness. Only fire and hunger. He devoured her, his lips crushing hers, his tongue claiming her mouth as though it belonged to him. And she melted into him, clutching his shoulders as if he might escape.

He kissed her harder, deeper, dragging every ounce of restraint from his soul and throwing it into the flames.

When his mouth left hers, she gasped again, her head falling back. “Percival…”