Her breath was shallow, and he could feel the slight tremor in her form. "Easy now," he murmured, his voice low but steady. His hand tightened around her waist, just enough to make sure she wouldn't slip away, but it felt like too much, too intimate. Her hands rested against his chest, and the sensation made him more aware of how close they were, how quickly everything was shifting.
"It's the whiskey," he added.
Her eyes fluttered, struggling to concentrate. He could smell the faint trace of whiskey, mixed with her fragrance. His heart thudded against his chest, every instinct screaming for him to pull her closer, to close the tiny bit of distance that separated them.
"But I only drank a little," she said, giggling.
Andrew clenched his jaw. "That wasn't a little."
Lavinia giggled again. "My apologies, Your Grace. I should be all right now. I just got a little light-headed. Perhaps I stood up too quickly."
Don't hold her too tight, Andrew. What if she cannot breathe?
She tried to pull away, and the instinct to hold her—just a little longer, to make sure she was steady—overwhelmed him. His body had its own demands. His grip tightened, his palm spreading across her back, holding her to him. Her hands rested lightly against his chest as if she sought some support.
The moment her eyes met his again, it was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them. The flush of her cheeks, the way she couldn't quite hold his gaze, sent a wave of heat crashing through him. He could feel the flutter in her chest, hear the soft hitch of her breath. And all he wanted was to kiss her until there was nothing but the two of them, tangled in the moment.
"You don't have to hide your blush, Lavinia," he whispered, his voice barely more than a rasp. Her gaze flickered up to his again, and for a brief moment, it was like the world held its breath.
Andrew leaned in, his lips so close to hers he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. The thrum of his own heartbeat drowned out everything else. His body moved of its own accord, instinct guiding him as he crossed the invisible line between them. He saw the subtle parting of her lips, felt the air grow thick with tension, and everything inside him screamed to close the gap, to kiss her, to finally feel the taste of her lips beneath his.
Don't do this to her...Nothing can come of it.
He froze and his breath caught in his throat.
With visible effort, he slowly withdrew, stepping back just far enough to create a sliver of space between them. The rawness of the moment still lingered, and he couldn't shake the pulse of lightning in his veins. But he knew, deep down, that it was better this way. Better that they both stayed distant.
Lavinia was staring at him, her eyes wide, lips slightly parted in surprise or maybe confusion. But he couldn't afford to look at her too closely. He couldn't afford to see what she was feeling.
"I...I shouldn't have," he muttered, his voice low, almost unrecognizable. He turned away, trying to put more space between them. "Forgive me."
But before he could take another step, Lavinia's hand shot out, grabbing him by the shirt, pulling him back toward her. The fabric of his shirt bunched in her fingers, and he froze, her sudden touch sending a rush of warmth that intimidated him and caught him off guard.
"Andrew," she whispered, her voice trembling with something he couldn't quite place. "We are married."
His eyes flickered down to where her fingers curled around his shirt, and a bitter smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. For a split second, he almost gave in. Almost let himself pull her into his arms and kiss her like he had wanted to just moments before.
"I know," he whispered, stepping away from her grasp. "But we are not exactly the typical, married couple now, are we? Youshould go to sleep," he added gently. "You'll feel better after you rest."
His pulse still pounded in his ears. He had to leave. He needed distance. So, he walked away, leaving the door of the study open as he made his way to his chambers.
He only hoped that tomorrow would bring clarity. But deep down, he feared it wouldn't.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"It is beautiful, isn't it?"
Lavinia stood before the mirror, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the reflection. The gown that had once felt beyond her reach now hugged her figure, as if it had been made just for her. The delicate lace and satin accentuated her curves in a way she had never thought possible. She traced the lines of the bodice with her fingers, still in disbelief. It was as if she were seeing someone else, a reflection she had long ago convinced herself didn't exist.
Her heart swelled with an unfamiliar feeling. A blend of awe and something like...triumph. She looked...beautiful. It was the first time she truly believed it.
She bit her lip, fighting the sudden wave of emotion that threatened to spill over. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and for a moment, she almost couldn't believe it.
She realized at that moment, that her newly found confidence had everything to do with Andrew, with the way he had spoken to her that night in the study. Somehow, he had given her permission...permission to step into the light, permission to be seen. He had stirred something that had lain dormant for far too long. For the first time in what felt like ages, she allowed herself to believe it, to believe in herself.
"The carriage is ready, Your Grace," Paulina answered. "I am certain you will be the talk of the ball."
"Oh, I am not so certain I love that idea," she answered with a smile and turned back to the mirror. "But I am just glad that I feel this way about how I look."
