Page 21 of When the Duke Met His Match

“Why do you care?” she demanded of him, eyes fiery with her confusion. “I am the enemy. I am the traitor. So, why do you care about what happens to me?”

Their chests heaved as they tried to catch their breath, both caught up in their proximity.

Theophilus swallowed hard, allowing her to watch the bob of his throat. His voice came out as an angry, frustrated sound. “Why can’t you see I’m trying to save you?” When she didn’t say anything, he shook her just enough to rattle her. “Why do you have to make this so hard?”

Odette was at a loss for words, only able to stare up at his stormy eyes, raging with confliction. She tried to make sense of it, but her thoughts were too jumbled and confusing. The tips of her ears burned.

The space was cut between them, and the pressure of his lips against hers sent a shiver down her spine. She gasped in surprise, only to melt beneath the touch.

The affection was full of desperation and shame, but she didn’t care. Instead, she pressed into the kiss as if she were starved, and he was the only thing she needed to fill that emptiness. She gripped the front of his uniform while his hands fell to her waist.

Theophilus’ gentle squeeze made everything rush back to her at once.

He was an English officer who had spent weeks interrogating her for the names of her countrymen. They couldn’t possibly engage in something so intimate.

Being sent away to France truly seemed like a good idea then. She required as much distance from him as possible to spare herself from doing something she might later regret.

She pulled away from him, finally freeing herself from his grasp. She tore away before he could react and ran straight for the door. She banged her fist against the metal, yelling through to the guards. “Get me out of here!”

Odette couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She couldn’t even be in the same room as him. If he were to kiss her again, she didn’t know if she’d be able to stop.

She couldn’t allow herself to bring him down with her if that was the case. It was dangerous, and breaking it off was in his best interest.

He took a careful breath, but she refused to look over her shoulder at him. She closed her eyes tightly and begged the nerves to leave her stomach.

“Odette,” Theophilus murmured a step behind her.

She felt the proximity of his outstretched hand, but the door opened before anything else could unfold.

Slipping through the open door, she fled without another word and without sparing him one last glance. The door was shut behind them, and the guard escorted her back through the halls.

Her hands shook all the while she returned to the cell, locked up with the others. But they trembled for a different reason than before.

The ghost of that kiss lingered on her lips, and Odette tried not to think about the way it tingled or how she wished it could’ve lasted longer.

It’s for my own good too.

Chapter Twelve

THEOPHILUS

Dusk had fallen over the streets of London, but Theophilus was no closer to closing his eyes and drifting off. Nervous energy surged through his body, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything other than Odette.

The sensation of her lips against his, surprisingly soft, considering her circumstances, never seemed to fade even hours later. He paced the length of his bedroom, stuck on the idea of his misunderstood prisoner being torn from him and sent away.

The thought of never seeing her again felt like a knife to the heart, and he could hardly bear it. With each turn of his room, he wondered what she would do all alone in France. He didn’t imagine life for her would be easy. The idea of her being vulnerable and vulnerable made his pulse quicken.

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Lieutenant Wright had been correct. Somewhere along the way, he began to care for her. There was no going back—not when his feelings seemed to hit a peak. The only options left were to give in and make his most foolish move to date or force his own heartbreak and let her go.

It was impossibly painful either way.

A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts, and he nearly jumped from his skin at the sudden intrusion. Without waiting, his father pushed inside and glanced in his direction.

Theophilus wondered how wild his eyes looked then, matched with his disheveled appearance. His uniform was half removed, leaving him in his trousers and a cream-colored undershirt.

His father’s face was etched with concern, and he closed the door behind him. “What happened, my boy?”

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Theophilus tried to force an enthusiastic smile. “It’s only the excitement with the war being over,” he managed to say without tripping over his words. “I only wish Harold was here to see it.”