Page 19 of Married to the Icy Duke (Duke Wars #3)

After all, every interaction was a harsh reminder that he was not succeeding in drawing his nephew out of his shell, that he was failing his brother once more, and that Tommy was not thriving.

Better to avoid the child, and then he could blame the nursemaids.

Except, of course, Charlotte did not seem to entertain that excuse at all. She had placed the responsibility for Tommy’s wellbeing where it belonged—directly upon Isaac’s shoulders.

He rolled his shoulders as if to shift the burden. It would not be budged, not even an inch.

So, he was determined to come out with them today. Perhaps this would make Tommy see his uncle as less fearsome than before. Perhaps.

So far, Tommy appeared to be enjoying himself. He scampered around the modiste’s receiving room, adored by all, full of candied fruits and whatnot, and clearly enthralled with all the colors and textures at his disposal. He was free with his smiles, even bestowing a few on Isaac.

It made Isaac’s heart leap when his little nephew came up to him and beamed like that. It made him feel as though somehow, miraculously, he was succeeding at raising the child.

Don’t grow complacent, he warned himself.

Moments passed, during which Thalia and Sybella talked quietly amongst themselves, leaving Isaac to sit and stew in silence.

He didn’t generally seek out conversation, certainly not idle prattle and meaningless gossip. At that moment, however, he would have welcomed any distraction to take his thoughts away from their subject.

The subject, of course, was Charlotte. The woman occupied his thoughts entirely too much these days.

He ought not to have kissed her last night. That was a foolish thing. He had only just agreed to her terms of not touching her, not even after they were married!

I ought not have agreed, he thought grimly, because that is a promise I will find remarkably difficult to keep.

That was the plain reality of the thing.

Isaac was not a fool, and he knew that he was drawn to the woman, dangerously so.

There was something about the flash of her eyes, the curve of her waist, that made him want to snatch her up and hold her against him.

It was like a sort of magnetism, something irresistible.

Isaac did not like to be in thrall to irresistible forces. Nobody with sense did. Love was a troublesome business and clearly to be avoided, but desire could be just as trying.

Isaac intended to avoid both.

The kiss was not helping matters, not one bit.

I ought to explain, he thought grimly. I should explain that it was a moment of weakness, and that I have gained control of myself since then.

But then, she had not mentioned it, either. Perhaps it would be best to forget the whole business?

Before he could reach a conclusion, however, a curtain swept back somewhere to the right, and Madame came prancing out, immensely pleased with herself.

“If I may say so,” she announced, “Lady Charlotte is indeed a perfect fit for a gown such as this.”

Then Charlotte walked nervously out of the dressing-room behind her.

Isaac's breath seemed to catch in his throat.

The gown was a rippling torrent of blue silk, cut low to display olive skin at her shoulders and collar, and long sleeves sliding down past her wrists. The skirts, foamed and ruched, pulled behind her, sweeping out from a tightly-cut bodice.

It flattered Charlotte’s figure to perfection. Her hair had begun to come down, a few chestnut tendrils falling over the back of her neck. Somehow, when highlighted against the rich green of her gown, her hair seemed almost red.

Her eyes, far from being dampened in comparison with her gown, seemed even greener than before.

She gave a small, tentative smile and held out her arms. “Well? What do you all think?”

Desire coiled hard in Isaac’s chest, plunging downwards.

He wanted to snatch her up and kiss her, hard.

He wanted to tear the front of the gown, sending all those sequins scattering in a little flood of glittering scales down to the ground.

He wanted to touch her collarbone, fingers gliding across the ridge and plunging down between her breasts.

“It’s beautiful , Charlotte!” Thalia exclaimed, jerking Isaac out of his warm reverie. He closed his mouth with a snap, praying that she had not noticed him staring.

“Yes, very pretty,” Sybella chimed in.

Then, as one, they all glanced over at Isaac. They were waiting, he realized to his chagrin, for him to respond.

“Do you like it?” he managed, his voice rasping just a little.

Charlotte peered down at herself with a faint smile. “Yes, I do.”

He shrugged. “Then it will do.”

She opened her mouth, a frown appearing between her brows, and in an instant, Isaac knew what she was going to ask.

Do you like it?

How could he respond? The answer was yes, of course he liked the dress. It was a beautiful dress, but more importantly, it was wrapped around a woman who, he was coming to believe, was the most beautiful woman of his acquaintance.

He was saved from a response by Tommy running forward, face alight. He seized Charlotte’s skirts in both hands, and she laughed, crouching down until she was on eye level with him.

“Do you like it, Tommy?” she asked, laughing.

He nodded confidently. “Green,” he said, glancing firmly around.

Madame and her assistants only laughed, clapping and smiling at the child. They didn’t understand the significance.

Isaac heard Mary suck in a breath, and he realized that he had been holding his.

A third word. It’s all because of her.

Clearing his throat, he got unsteadily to his feet.

“We’ll take the dress and any other accompaniments Lady Charlotte and her sister-in-law see fit,” he said, his voice unwavering. “Now, tell me, what else do you have in this color?”

Madame blinked. “In this color? Why, Your Grace, we have many things. Fabrics, of course, but also gloves, ribbons, buttons …”

“I’ll take them all.”

Madame missed a beat. It was the first time that she had seemed genuinely amazed.

“What?” she managed, her impeccable French accent dipping just a little. “You can’t mean …”

“I mean all, Madame,” he responded smoothly. “You know who I am. You know I can afford it. So, everything green—including this gown—is to be packed up and shipped to Arkley Hall. Do you agree?”

She swallowed thickly. “I … Yes, Your Grace. Of course.”

Isaac turned, straightening his waistcoat, and found Charlotte staring at him, a blush creeping across her cheeks. He gave her a short, wry smile and bent down to sweep Tommy into his arms.

“Is there any more shopping to do?” he enquired. “Or have I suffered enough?”