Page 65 of Stolen By the Duke of Stone

Chapter Twenty-Two

Andrew had never been subjected to so much indignity in his life.

Blind man’s buff was a parlor game, a slightly risqué pastime that younger men and women often engaged in. One member of the group was blindfolded and had to chase the other members around the room and identify them through touch alone.

Thus far, he had endeavored to brood alone in the corner, but that could not last forever, as proven by Lady Marwich, who approached him with the silken scarf in her hands that she had used to wrap around her victims’ eyes.

From the gleam in her eyes, he knew he would not be long exempt.

“Your Grace,” she pronounced, loudly enough that the large room of ladies could all hear. “I think you should be next.”

At the thought of grasping one of these women and identifying them with the use of his hands alone made him break out in a cold sweat. Many of the ladies in question were at least married, but he saw several unmarried ladies amongst their ranks.

His frantic gaze caught Jessamine’s. Although her hand was half over her mouth, smothering a giggle, she managed a look of sympathy in his direction.

If she wasn’t the lady he found⁠—

“I would rather not,” he said to Lady Marwich, hearing the stiffness in his voice but unable to prevent it.

“And yet we must all sometimes do things we had rather not.”

In one deft moment, she reached up and fastened the scarf around his head. The light dimmed, and he planted his feet to steady himself. Vague light filtered through the material, but nothing more definitive.

“Lady Marwich,” he growled.

“Oh, now, go and have fun.” She tapped his shoulder. “It isn’t often we get to play with a gentleman.”

“Torture, more like,” he muttered, then straightened. Jessamine had been to his right, and he took two sure steps in that direction, rewarded by the sound of fleeing footsteps. An arm brushed his body, but he disregarded it. His prey was somewhere ahead; he could sense it.

He could sense her.

She had a particular scent, one that called to him. Floral and pretty with an undertone of something spicier that made his blood heat. There was too much perfume in this room for him to smell her, but if he got close enough, he would know.

A body stepped into his, and he caught her out of instinct. His hands closed around her upper arms, and he had a whiff of that elusive scent. She was silent, but he could almost sense the way she waited, testing him.

This was a challenge. Perhaps that was why Lady Marwich had established it in the first place.

What a terrible idea.

He slid his hands up to her shoulders. A familiar slope. He had only held Jessamine a few times, but he felt as though he had memorized her body in that time. Every line, every curve.

He brought his hand to her cheek, running his thumb along her chin. The room had gone quiet, but he barely paid them any attention.

Yes, this was his wife. She had stepped into his path, and she had allowed herself to be caught, and in doing so, she had once again caught him. Her lure had been too great for him to resist.

Even though he knew her identity, he slid his hand along her jaw until he felt the silken brush of her hair. Her breath stuttered, and he wanted her so ferociously he wasn’t sure how he had ever resisted.

“Jessamine,” he murmured, his voice low enough that it was for her and her alone. “Are you satisfied?”

Finally, she laughed. A huff of breath against his arm, and then she was stepping closer, into the circle of his arms, and reaching up to remove the blindfold. He stared down into her face, her brown eyes light, like amber, and her mouth slightly parted.

He knew that look, too. He’d been blessed with enough experience to know what Jessamine looked like when she wanted him, too. But she had no idea what she really wanted, and how dangerous such a thing was. He was not a kind, gentle man. If she came to care for him… if he endeavored to deserve her, he would end up breaking something, and then who would care for William?

The distance between them ought to be preserved. Friends and no more. Parents of the same little boy, but not lovers in their own right.

Looking down at her now, he couldn’t remember why he had made that vow.

He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I’m glad it was you,” he said with perfect sincerity.