Page 23 of When a Duke Desires a Lass

It was impossible.

Her ruinous secret made it so.

She was disgraced, scarcely better than a kept mistress.

He was a powerful and respected duke.

Despondency cooled Emily’s ardor, and heart aching, she averted her head.

Tobias pressed her head to the broad plane of his chest, so tenderly and reverently, stinging tears sprang to her eyes.

As if he could read her thoughts and sense her heartache, he murmured, “It’s all right, leannan.”

Leannan?

“We’ll take this as slow as ye need.”

Tobias dropped a kiss upon her crown, his lips searing Emily, branding her. Making her wish with everything that was in her that she could be Tobias’s and cursing Clement Grenville to the lowest level of Hades for robbing her of the opportunity.

Unhurried footsteps and the distinct rattle of a tea tray drove them several steps apart.

Tobias retreated to his desk, and Emily sank onto the couch.

She should tell him there was nothing to take slow, but the words wouldn’t form.

The news sheet had fallen onto the cushion, and she picked it up, seizing the opportunity to change the subject.

Clearing her throat and giving the paper a little shake, Emily asked, “What are we to do about this?”