Page 84 of How to Tempt a Duke

Eleanor’s breath caught and her body immediately reacted with a low, warm pulse between her thighs. She drew her arms around the back of his neck, eager to give in to the pull of passion and liberate herself from the chaos in her mind. For right here, right now, she would allow herself the luxury of unfettered longing and the beauty of being sated.

And for this one blissful spot in time she would allow herself to be swept into the sweet oblivion of his embrace, where she didn’t have to think of the challenges ahead—including the very precarious state of her heart.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Eleanor’s fine warm glow cooled as she descended the stairs for an early dinner. Evander and Lottie awaited them.

It had been all too easy to put her brother from her mind when she was upstairs with Charles. Evander. But not only was he alive, he was the scoundrel who had destroyed Lottie’s future.

The very thought settled as an ache in Eleanor’s chest.

As if sensing her unease, Charles put his hand to her lower back and carefully guided her down the stairs. The touch was intimate and surprisingly reassuring. She looked up at her husband and hated the tightening of her chest and what it meant.

She’d seen those blue eyes alight with passion. She’d kissed those lips and experienced the pleasure they could bring. And it was because of this knowledge that the most handsome man she’d ever seen was suddenly all the more so. Dangerously more so.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Charles leaned in close. “All will be well, my Duchess.”

Together, they approached the dining room, where Lottie and Evander sat at the long, familiar table with the blue runner down its middle. Their voices were impassioned with a loud whispering that went silent when Eleanor and Charles entered.

Evander rose immediately in welcome. At least he had not lost his manners.

Lottie got to her feet as well, her cheeks stained with a deep flush. “Excuse me. I find I am without an appetite this evening.”

She did not give anyone a chance to reply and all but ran from the room.

“What did you say to so offend her?” Charles asked Evander, with an edge.

“The offense was given long ago.”

Evander pushed a hand through his hair and a tuft of it jutted out over his right temple. That particular bit of hair had always been stubborn, even when he was a boy. It was a stabbing reminder of the young brother Eleanor had loved, and it endeared him to her, in a deep place in her heart, where her affection for that young boy could never be uprooted.

Evander sighed and motioned for them to sit. A muscle worked in his jaw. “It is an offense for which I will never be able to make amends,” he said. “And I believe the cost is no more than I deserve.”

Charles scoffed and then helped Eleanor into her seat before taking his own.

The footman came forward and presented them with a delicate savory soup.

Evander stared into the distance, forgoing his soup in favor of the wine at his side. A crease showed on his brow, similar to the one their father had often had when he was disappointed.

“Will you tell us of your adventures?” Eleanor asked. “The journals make everything seem so very fascinating.”

Charles stiffened at her side at the mention of the journals.

Evander turned his gaze in her direction. “You have read them?”

She lifted her chin. “I have.”

“Elly...”

He said his childhood nickname for her in a sad, slow tone. There was a tired look about him that made her want to coddle him.

“Those aren’t appropriate for you. There’s so much in them...”

“I am well aware.” Eleanor slid the spoon into her soup. “I am no longer a child.”

“But you are still a lady.”

“We have more journals here, do we not?” She kept her gaze from gliding toward Charles. He had accepted her without the journals, but she knew what they meant to him regardless.