Page 31 of His Stolen Duchess

There was no sound, no direction, just darkness and cold. She kicked wildly, trying to find the surface, but nothing felt right. Something brushed her leg, and her foot struck something hard, perhaps a rock, and panic surged through her.

If it snags my gown, I won’t get free.

Her lungs burned. Her chest ached from holding her breath, her limbs flailing uselessly. And in that spiraling moment of fear, she was certain.

He’s let me drown. After what I said—after how I acted—he’s letting me go.

Then—light. Warmth on her face.

The sun.

She was rising, limbs limp, as though the sky had taken pity on her. For a heartbeat, she felt she might fly, weightless and quiet—until she saw his face. Lysander’s eyes were above hers, steady and filled with something she couldn’t identify.

She looked away, shame pounding against her ribs harder than her heart.

The Duke carried her from the water, cradling her firmly against his chest. He said nothing as he strode up the bank, only tightened his hold when she trembled.

He sat with her on the grass, still wrapped around her like a shield. She could feel his warmth now, steady and grounding, chasing the chill from her bones.

“I have you,” he murmured, his voice low at her ear. “You’re safe. I have you. Just breathe, all right? Focus on breathing.”

So she did.

One shaky breath at a time.

Her whole body started to shudder now that she was out of the water and into the cool air. She clung to him with her hands, wrapping her arms around his impressive torso and grabbing the fabric at his back. She pressed her cheek to his chest and could hear his heartbeat, a quick thrumming.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered into his chest. “I… I didn’t…”

“Don’t worry.” The Duke brought up a hand and stroked her cheek. “We’ll take it slower next time.”

Georgina laughed. “You want to do this with me again?” Her heartbeat started to slow, and the shivering of her body diminished.

“I want you to be safe.” His voice was steady, almost clipped, but his hand lingered at her cheek, his other arm braced firmly around her.

“I am now,” Georgina said, her voice rougher than she’d intended.

They were close. Far too close. Her soaked flannel gown clung to her skin, and she could feel the heat radiating from his muscular chest. Everything around her was quiet save for the distant rustle of leaves and the sound of their breathing.

She looked up at him wordlessly, trying to thank him for his patience, or say something clever to break the tension, but the right words remained lodged in her throat.

Instead, she reached up and covered his hand with hers. Not because she meant to do anything… just to feel something solid. Steady.

That was all it took.

He shifted, drawing her up until she was more upright in his arms, and in the next breath, his mouth was on hers.

The kiss was sudden, firm, unhesitating. Not soft, but not cruel either. It was instinctive, like something inevitable finally snapping into place.

Georgina responded without thinking. She leaned into him, her hands gripping his damp shirt as their lips moved in an urgent rhythm, tasting of lake water and heat. Her skin tingled. Her body burned in contrast to the cool breeze still coming off the lake.

His hand skimmed up her spine, steadying her. She felt the brush of his stubble against her cheek and the unmistakabletension coiled in his body, as though he was fighting to restrain a force inside of himself.

Then he pulled away.

Just like that, it ended.

“We should go,” he said in a low and gravelly voice.