The Heart of a Duke(49)
She now understood why the twins were never close. They were like parallel lines that would never, ever come together.
Edmund’s laughter snapped her out of her thoughts. It was a deep rumble and combined with the look in his heavy-lidded eyes, she found herself backing away.
She recognized that sultry look. It was a mirror image of his brother’s. He was going to kiss her. In place of a racing pulse, her skittish nerves returned. She had waited forever for this moment. It could not be happening now. Not when she was so upset and conflicted her stomach was balled in knots, and she was desperate for him to understand things that she feared he could not, or worse, would not.
He stepped forward and slipped his arms around her waist, oblivious to her turmoil. “Good lord, when you walked in here in that dress, looking so delectable, it’s been all I could do to keep my hands off of you.”
She swallowed as Edmund’s head lowered. The hard press of his body against hers was discomfiting, like a poorly tailored frock. She resisted the urge to slip her arms between them when his eyes lowered to the swells of her breasts. She tamped her nerves down. He was her betrothed, even if he could be arrogant, obtuse, and so very charming. An aching pain pulsated in her chest.
She had no choice . . . even if she wished it otherwise.
She struggled to relax as she braced herself for the press of his mouth against hers. He had a right to the intimacy, but a voice deep in the chambers of her heart cried out in protest. Unwittingly, she found herself heeding the cry and tipping her head away from his as if she could avoid the inevitable. As if she could avoid him.
The touch never came.
A guttural throat clearing interrupted them.
Edmund straightened so abruptly that she staggered back a step, stunned at the relief that surged through her.
“My apologies, Your Grace.”
She couldn’t identify the dark-haired gentleman hastily stepping back, but she recognized the shimmering turquoise gown of the woman accompanying him. Jessica.
“I always am interrupting you at the most inopportune moments. While the alley at the fall festival was a more public venue, this one is not, so I have no excuse for my intrusion. Forgive me. Maybe it’s my exits I should work on. At least at the fair, I slipped away unnoticed, but then you were in a far more compromising situation then.”
“Lud, Brimston, you never know when to quit chattering on,” Jessica hissed. “They are not interested in apologies or company. Forgive us and Brimston, in particular, for being a blind idiot.” She dipped into a brief curtsy and dragged her companion away.
The silence that fell was heavy with recriminations. The blood drained from Julia’s face. Her heart pounded, like an orchestra in full concert, blasting out an operatic tragedy of epic proportions.
“Again? The festival? Compromising situation?” Edmund repeated, his voice so frigid, it could freeze water.
“Edmund, let me explain . . .” She cursed the sound of her desperation, the tremors seizing her.
“Please do. I never deigned to make an appearance at the fair. Apparently you did and found it far more pleasurable than I ever could have imagined.”
“No,” she gasped at the insinuation, recoiling. “Please, you misunderstand.”
“No? Then please do enlighten me, for I believe I missed much.” His voice never rose, but held a quiet menace that was louder than a barking reprimand.
Feeling like a trapped rabbit, her heart thudded and she moistened her lips, her mouth dry. “Well, you see, Daniel was—”
“Daniel.” He stiffened, and his nostrils flared. “My brother has a canny ability for turning up where I least expect him to be, or should I say, where he doesn’t belong. That explains Brimston’s mistake, but it doesn’t explain yours. Please, continue.”
He had finally voiced his brother’s name, albeit hissed under his breath like a filthy expletive. “You must understand, I warned Daniel that—”
“It appears you did far more than warn him. You were seen in a compromising position. Brimston may be an idiot, but contrary to Jessica’s words, blind he is not. Do you deny it?”
“No, but, I can explain—”
His hand shot up, his white glove an implacable barrier glowing in the fading light as he continued in an icy drawl. “Do not bother. You have said more than enough. I had heard my brother attended that village fete, and he had made a public spectacle of himself on some half-crazed stallion. What I did not know was how intimately your paths had crossed.”
“It is not what you are thinking. It was a mistake and—”
“Enough,” he snarled, looming over her. His hands vised around her upper arms, ignoring her sharp cry as his fingers dug deep. “If you think I want to hear one more word about it, you think wrong.” He abruptly released her as if the touch of her burned or, worse, sickened him. “Spare me the sordid details.”