AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Asleep, and holding his hand, her fingers tangled in his, as though she was keeping him there, tethered to that bed. To that room. To the earth.
To her.
And in that moment, a wild thought raced through him.
Maybe shehadkept him there.
Maybe Adelaide Frampton, by sheer force of her will, had kept him alive.
He tightened his fingers, knowing he shouldn’t. Knowing he should let her sleep, but wanting her to open her eyes more than he’d ever wanted anything before. “Adelaide,” he whispered. His first word, like a new beginning.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and beautiful and instantly alert, even without her spectacles. Shock flared in them, and a tiny furrow formed between her brows, as though she could not quite believe what she saw, and he couldn’t help the way it pleased him—the idea that she might be happy he was awake.
She shot up, pulling her hand from his, and he resisted the urge to chase it, to claim it once more. To touch her again.
“Adelaide—” he said again, softly, as though he might scare her if he spoke above a whisper.
She sucked in a breath at the word, her spine going straight. And then—
Tears. Her beautiful brown eyes filled with tears, and he couldn’t help himself then, reaching for her, saying her name again.
He sat up, ignoring the sting of his wound, the ache in his ribs that didn’t matter. Not as long as she was crying.
“You shouldn’t—” She started to tell him not to move, but stopped, shaking her head, going silent for a long moment, one hand—that hand that had been his meremoments earlier—fisted and pressed tight to her mouth as she looked at him, tears spilling over. “I thought—”
His throat tightened as she struggled with the words. He set a hand to his chest, where the worst of all his aches flared, the one that came with her pain. “Love... no. Don’t cry.”
“I thought you would—” She paused for a moment, then added urgently, as she wiped away her tears, “I’m not crying.”
“Of course not,” he said, watching the tears she was powerless to stop, wanting to pull her close and hold her tight and do battle with whatever it was that had summoned them.
It was him, though. He had summoned them.
Because she liked him.
Not that she would confess it. She was babbling, trying to explain them. “I’m not—” She stopped and started again. “This isn’t—”
He nodded. “I know.”
“I’m onlyrelieved, you see.” She brushed a tear away. And another. And gave a little wild laugh that made him want to do the same.
“Of course,” he said. “You didn’t want a dead duke on your hands.”
Another laugh, this one richer. The kind of laugh that made a man wish he could summon it every day. For a long time. “Exactly,” she agreed. “You’re not a bad sort of duke. You shouldn’t die.”
And while he did not like the tears, he liked the sentiment a great deal. “Not a bad sort of duke,” he repeated. “High praise indeed from you, Miss Frampton.”
He moved to stand, ignoring his body’s protests.
She shot forward. “Be careful, you’ll hurt yourself.” She reached for him, not hesitating, her cool fingers sliding over his skin to help him, as though he were hers to touch.
Which he was, with pleasure.
She did not seem so certain however, and she let him gotoo quickly, pulling away as though she’d been burned. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I shouldn’t be so—”
He cut her off, not wanting her to finish the sentence. Not when she absolutelyshould. Not when he wanted her to. Anytime she wished. For as long as she wished. “Why were you here?”
She blinked. “Here? At the house?”
