Page 23 of Corrupting his Duchess (A Duke’s Undoing #1)

And that, more than any flattery or vow, made him trust her.

She hadn’t played a role. She hadn’t charmed him to gain favor.

She had pulled away to protect her dignity and in doing so, proved she had more honor than anyone currently whispering her name in drawing rooms.

He trusted her. He didn’t say it aloud. Not yet. But it settled in his chest like something earned.

And he would not forget it.

Henry studied her a moment. Then, slowly, “Thank you.”

She frowned. “For what?”

“For telling me.” He took a step forward. “For not pretending.”

She hesitated. “You deserve the truth.”

“I’m not used to it,” he said wryly. “Especially not when it’s inconvenient.”

A flicker of something softened in her eyes. “It was never about you.”

“I know,” he said. “But it becomes about me when it hurts you.”

He didn’t know whether to be maddened by her sense of honor or fall at her feet for it. She’d chosen solitude over compromise. Chosen principle over promise. Damn it, she’d pulled away from him with more honesty than most people approached him with at all.

His eyes searched her face, and then, softer, “You’re braver than most men I know.”

“I didn’t feel brave,” she murmured.

“I don’t care how you felt. You were.”

Her lips parted, but the words failed her.

He stepped forward again. “I won’t ask if you regret pulling away. I only care that you told me why.”

She nodded once.

“I won’t offer promises I haven’t considered,” he continued. “But I would rather you doubt my future than doubt my honesty.”

“I don’t,” she said softly. “Not anymore.”

He took another step, now only a breath between them. “Then know this, I will not marry for advantage. Not for politics. Not to rescue anyone. Not even you.”

Something flickered in her eyes…hurt, perhaps, but it passed too quickly to read clearly.

He saw it. He leaned in slightly, his voice lower and gentle. “But I will not marry if I don’t wish to.”

Anna’s throat tightened. She didn’t speak.

He said it simply, without force.

Saying it aloud surprised him. He had never voiced such a thing before. Not to his mother. Not to Nathaniel. And yet here, in this room that smelled faintly of lavender and candlewax, the words came easily.

He wouldn’t marry to please a room. But to please her? That was an altogether different temptation.

It wasn't a vow, not even an invitation. But the door… was not shut.

Anna lowered her gaze, her voice careful. “Thank you, Your Grace. For what you said.”

He inclined his head slightly. “I meant every word.”

A pause.

Anna’s gaze dropped, then lifted again. “I shouldn’t be alone with you.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But I’d still rather be here than anywhere else.”

She moved toward the door, hand brushing the handle. “You should go.”

He didn’t move. “And if I don’t?”

She hesitated. “Then I suppose you’ll be the next scandal the ladies whisper about.”

He stepped closer, just a pace. “Then let them whisper.”

Then she added, more quietly, “They already whisper, but you should go.”

He didn’t move. “Because you want me to?”

“No,” she said at once. Too quickly. She caught herself. “Because if you’re found here…”

He stepped closer, a half-smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “What would happen, do you think?”

Her lips parted. “Ruination.”

“For whom?”

She looked up at him.

He tilted his head. “Because I assure you, Anna, if scandal were to follow, I’d have little choice but to make it right.”

Her breath caught. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re teasing.”

“Only a little,” he said, voice lower now. “But that’s because if I speak plainly, you’ll stop me.”

She didn’t deny it.

He moved another step closer. Close enough to see the flutter at the base of her throat.

“Tell me to leave,” he said, “and I will.”

She said nothing.

He smiled faintly. “No objections, then.”

Her hand curled around the doorknob, knuckles pale against the cold metal. “This is mad.”

“Undeniably.”

She swallowed. “And you’re very close.”

“I know,” he murmured. “And I haven’t even touched you.”

His voice was velvet now, soft and low and impossible to ignore.

He watched her breath slowly, the rise and fall of her chest steadying beneath fabric he suddenly envied. “Your Grace…”

He leaned in, just enough to let his words graze the shell of her ear. “I remember how you tasted.”

She froze.

He caught her scent, lavender and something softer beneath it, something warm and clean and entirely her, as he watched the fine line of her neck rise with a breath she tried to steady. Her skin seemed to warm beneath his gaze, as though his nearness alone had stirred something between them.

His mouth curved. “You kissed me first, remember? I’ve been trying not to think about it since.”

“I shouldn’t have,” she whispered.

“You did,” he said. “And I’ve never been so grateful for anything impulsive in my life.”

His hand lifted, hesitant, offering, until his fingers brushed the side of her neck.

She closed her eyes.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to need anything. But she’d undone something in him, simply by not asking for it.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I plan to do nothing you won’t allow.”

Her breath trembled.

He wanted to stay. To press a kiss to the inside of her wrist and say nothing more. But he wouldn’t touch what she wouldn’t give.

She opened her eyes.

Their gazes locked, heat blooming slowly between restraint and longing.

Then, softly, she said, “I don't know what I want.”

She gasped as his fingers brushed her corset laces, the whisper of touch sending a shiver down her spine.

“You should go,” she breathed, though her hands clutched the lapels of his coat, not pushing him away but anchoring him closer.

“I should go,” he said, voice low and rough, “but I won’t.”

His mouth found the soft skin beneath her ear, warm breath ghosting over her neck as his lips grazed her pulse. She tilted her head before she realized what she was doing, baring herself to him.

“You drive me mad, Anna.”

He caught her mouth in his, slow at first, thorough, unhurried, until her lips parted under his and he deepened the kiss. His hands moved to her waist, drawing her flush against him. She felt the press of his desire, unhidden, unashamed, and it made her shiver.

Her fingers fumbled at his cravat, loosening it just enough to slip her hand beneath the collar. Skin to skin. He was warm, solid, and trembling slightly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered as he kissed down the line of her jaw.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her throat, his hands skimming the curve of her hip, then lower. “Say the word, and I will.”

But she didn’t.

Instead, she let her head fall back, fingers tangling in his hair as his lips traveled lower. His hand cupped her breast through the fabric of her gown, thumb brushing over the taut peak until she gasped.

“Henry…” Her voice was barely a whisper, caught between restraint and need.

He looked up at her then, eyes dark with hunger. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She dragged him down and he met her, mouth firm and urgent.

When they broke apart, breathless, her hand tangled in the fabric of his cravat.

“You're right,” he said, brushing his mouth along the line of her jaw. “I should go.”

He touched her cheek, just once, and she leaned into it like a woman starved.

“You should get some rest,” he said quietly, dropping a kiss on her forehead.

Then he left.