“There now,” Iris murmured. “All that fuss for nothing.”
But it wasn’t nothing, was it?
That kiss had changed everything. Or perhaps it had simply revealed what had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.
The Duke had called her dangerous. The memory of his rough whisper sent fresh heat through her. Her lips still felt tender, and she could taste him faintly when she ran her tongue over them.
Is that why he’d left? Not because he felt nothing, but because he felt too much?
She rocked slowly, trying to calm her racing heart. Her body still hummed with unfulfilled desire. Every nerve ending felt alive in a way she’d never experienced.
If Evie hadn’t cried, how far would they have gone?
Go. Before I do something we’ll both regret.
The thought made her cheeks burn.
What did he mean? What could happen between them that they both would regret?
Evie’s breathing evened out and her grip on the necklace loosened as sleep pulled her under. Iris continued rocking and allowed her mind to spin.
What happened now? Would her husband retreat even further and use this moment of weakness as an excuse to rebuild his walls? Or would he finally let her in?
The house settled into quiet around her. Somewhere below, she heard the Duke’s study door close. He’d retreat into his work now. He would use ledgers and contracts to avoid thinking about what had passed between them. And tomorrow, he’d pretend it had never happened.
But Iris wouldn’t forget the heat of his mouth, the desperation in his touch, or the raw honesty when he’d admitted to wanting her. She would continue to hear the way he’d groaned when she’d touched his hair, as if she’d unlocked something primal within him.
She touched her lips gently, still feeling the ghost of his kiss. Her hair remained half-undone, and she could feel where his hands had tangled in it.
She’d been patient for a year. She could be patient a little longer. For Evie’s sake, yes, but also for her own. Because buried beneath her husband’s fears and walls was a man worth knowing.
She’d glimpsed him tonight. She’d felt him in the desperate press of his lips and the tremor in his hands.
And she wanted more.
CHAPTER 9
“Her Grace will take breakfast in her room this morning.”
Mary’s voice drifted up from the entrance hall, followed by Peters’s measured response.
Iris remained at her window, watching Owen’s carriage disappear into the morning traffic. He’d left earlier than usual, before the sun had properly risen.
Good. She needed time to think without his presence clouding her judgment.
The events of last night felt like a fever dream. She vividly recalled the way he’d held her tight as if he were afraid that she might disappear. And then, there was the kiss. She had wanted Owen to kiss her, but more than that, she knew that he felt the same way. A feeling of desire had drawn them together and they were suspended in that moment by their shared wanting.
Wanting. Such a small word for what had happened between them.
Iris pressed her fingers to her lips, still feeling the ghost of his mouth. Her body remembered, too; a warm ache had kept her awake long after she’d tucked Evie in for the night. She’d never imagined a kiss could be so consuming or so thoroughly devastating to one’s composure.
But what did it mean? What did any of it mean?
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
Mary entered with a breakfast tray and set it on the small table by the window. “Cook sent extra portions, Your Grace, and those honey biscuits you favor.”
“Thank her for me.” Iris didn’t move away from the window. “Is Lady Evangeline still sleeping?”
