Page 90 of Project Duke

He loved her.

No, love was nothing to describe what he felt for her.

He worshipped her. He lived for her. He breathed for her. She was necessary for his heart to pump blood, for his lungs to take air.

He was hers.

She retreated. “Are you in pain?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I was no longer in pain the moment you were safe.”

She was shaking in his arms, her tremors like convulsions. He looked for a wound, a scratch he hadn’t noticed. Her skin was unblemished, but her eyes were wild.

“What is it, love?” he asked.

Her jaw trembled, teeth clattering as she looked at him with blue eyes so dark they could be bottomless wells.

“I just killed someone.”

The realization hit him like a storm wave crashing into a ship. Admiral Langden was dead. The longtime friend of his family, or who Nathaniel thought was friend… The man who had lent Nathaniel money, who had supported him in his navy career. The man who had commanded the first ship Nathaniel ever served on. The man who, despite his high rank, had personally taught Nathaniel how to tie the lines and dock the ship.

The man who was one of the few connections to his father Nathaniel had.

He was behind everything…

Why? Sometimes you have no choice but to do what a powerful man asks of you.

Did this have something to do with the man with the walrus-ivory walking stick?

The question was buried in his psyche the moment another tremor ran through Calliope, and he brought her to him. She had killed Langden…

For him.

He swallowed and wrapped his arms around her like a protective blanket. “I’m sorry, love,” he rasped. “I wish I could take that dreadful deed away from you. Especially since you did it for me.”

She looked up at him as though he’d offended her. Her lips were a lush strawberry there for his picking. They were both alive, and her heart beat against his chest.

“Whatever do you mean?” she said, her eyebrows drawn together. “Of course for you. I l—”

She closed her mouth. She…what? Lightness engulfed him at the possibility of what she was going to say.

Love.

Goodness, could this miraculous creature love him? She had protected him.

As his mother had.

Protection he didn’t deserve.

He returned to her lips. The hunger for her body, the need to feel her, warm and soft and his, against him was a constant ache in his muscles.

He clung to her mouth, drinking from her and unable to get satisfaction. Alive…you’re alive…

He picked her up, sliding one arm under her knees and the other under her back, and carried her to his bed.

He laid her down, their gazes connected, and a similar desire to that raging in his own blood glistened in her eyes. He kissed her again and cupped her breast through her dress, so round and soft. He ached to taste her skin, to feel her bare against him.

But what he yearned for the most was to be inside her, to feel surrounded by her, warm and tight, to know that she was still his.