Page 2 of Never Love a Duke

Hence her need for this town.

Hence her need for this community.

And their trust.

She needed to settle the growing concern and harness any energy toward a rescue, if need be.

Ah…there was a wagon loaded with barrels just outside Mr. Duke’s. “Help me up, Iris,” she said to her friend and extended a hand.

With a grunt, she heaved herself atop a barrel and found her footing. Perfectly stable. She smoothed her dress and looked up at the crowd who were still too busy to notice her.

Unexpectedly, Iris let out a loud whistle, corralling the gazes toward Mirabelle.

Cupping her hands over her mouth, she started to reassure the town. “Everything is going to be just fine—”

KABOOM!

Chapter 2

When she crumpled off the wagon, the hard ground was like a slap to Mirabelle’s entire body. Propping herself up in agony, she surveyed the street. But immediately her jaw ached and a sharp pain reverberated up from her ankle. Everywhere, a cloud of dust permeated the air. Much like the sky, her clogged brain couldn’t comprehend all the sounds and movement around her.

And briefly, ever so briefly, she permitted herself to put her head back to the ground in rest.

Contrary to her prone position, her mind did not rest though. It flew back to a moment in time replete with a mirroring chaos of the present. A night of kisses and scandal, secrets and lies.

What a memory.

She was back at Vauxhall leaning against the trunk of a tree, escaping the crowds to undertake a mission. With a deep inhale, her fingers caressed the book in her pocket knowing she would be able to read it soon, though it didn’t feel like soon could come soon enough.

Without a care for the light tugging, her head dropped back against the bark, and her eyes drifted closed. Too dark to read, she pulled the book out of her pocket and cradled it to her chest. Just one little squeeze, a small reassurance—

“A little dark to be reading at midnight in the forest, isn’t it?”

Startled, she dropped the book as her eyes flew open to take in the voice belonging to the man before her. Man. What an inappropriate understatement. He was the epitome of man. He was the man. If her mind had been able to conjure up the very definition, she still would have fallen short of the sheer muscles, unshakeable presence, and…shelter…before her. Shelter. What an odd word to apply to a human being. But that was the feeling resonating in her gut. He was shelter.

“What are you reading? Or…not reading?” He dipped to one knee and scooped up the book, extending it to her. But her hands trembled at her sides, afraid to touch him for fear that making contact with him might make him disappear.

Pitch black interspersed with only the glow of lanterns and a slice of the moon, and she was still mortified to think he might notice her flaming cheeks. Too unnerved to speak, she carefully reached for the book, intentional in not touching his fingers.

But he didn’t let go when he should have. Instead, he turned the cover to read it. “Memoirs of Emma Courtney?” He raised a brow at her.

Oh God, he had to go and do that. If only she had kept the book hidden in her pocket safe from judgmental eyes.

“The pent up fire burns fiercest,” he quoted. He actually quoted from the scandalous novel.

“Y-you’ve read her?”

“Ah…she speaks. I thought perhaps you were a creature of the winged variety with no ability to converse with mere mortals.”

“I-I just…shouldn’t be here,” she finished lamely, with something other than the one million thoughts soaring through her head.

Stepping closer, invading her space in the best possible way, he asked, “Here alone? Here with me? Where?”

And she only nodded, her hair catching on the bark of the tree. To her horror, she was stuck like that, chin jutting up, neck exposed. Caught. Bringing both hands to her head she intended to loose her hair, but when caught the man’s bold gaze devouring her—her breasts to be more precise—her breath hitched in her throat.

Never been kissed. Never been touched intimately by a man. Certainly never been devoured by one’s eyes before.

Her heart pounded out an erratic beat, one she could neither follow nor contain. Her breaths couldn’t match the pace of the thunderous roar in her chest. And that’s when his hand came up to her neck.