God, it felt good.
Adele bit at his lip, her hands sliding down his chest. She wanted to rouse the passion she knew he hid deep inside him, but he kissed her jaw in that moment, his stubble rasping over her ear and— A pained gasp escaped her.
It broke the moment, broke her hold over him.
"Damn it, Adele. This is precisely why this shouldn't happen." Malloryn caught her wrists and held her at bay, his breath whispering over her lips. "You're hurt."
"I'll be fine."
But he shook his head. "No."
A third and final time.
She wanted to reach for him so badly.
She wanted another kiss.
But he was locking himself down visibly, right before her eyes, and she didn't understand it.
"I don't think it wise to stay here with you tonight, Adele."
"Would you just stay... until I fall asleep?" It was the only sign of weakness she'd allow herself. "I don't want to be alone in the darkness. Not tonight."
"I shouldn't."
She hated herself for saying it, but she did. "I won't touch you."
Malloryn stared at her for a long time before nodding. "As you wish."
But when he lay down behind her, curling his arm over her waist, he remained dressed and atop the covers.
Adele closed her eyes, burrowing into the pillows and blankets as she laced her fingers through his.
She wouldn't push him further. Not tonight.
But she was Adele Cavill, and she was determined.
After tonight's revelations, the Duke of Malloryn didn't stand a chance.
Adele's breathing softened as she fell asleep, her body relaxing against his.
But Malloryn did not soften. Nor did he relax.
Instead, he held her in his arms as he tried to analyze their previous encounter and work out precisely what had gone wrong.
He'd meant to set her at bay, the way Gemma has suggested. He didn't want to break her heart. He didn't want to hurt her. He couldn't offer her anything more of himself….
They were all truths he'd long believed, and yet somehow, they felt wrong.
And to make matters worse, Adele had seen right through them.
She'd routed him with all the ease of a master general.
It felt like another opening in their game…. But if this was war, then he was badly outflanked. Adele seemed to hold every ace in her hand.
He had no real clue how to deal with her.
Why?
Malloryn brushed a lock of hair from her cheek with soft fingers as he examined her in the dark. He could admit he found her dangerously intriguing. No woman had ever stood up to him so brashly, nor refused to back down when he arched a cool brow. Crossing wits with her felt like dueling, only, he was never quite certain of the outcome.
And worse, he enjoyed the uncertainty.
She was clever, cunning, and dangerously sensual. Beautiful, and yet callously dismissive of it—unless it suited her needs. Fiercely protective of those she loved—like her sister, and her friends—but also wary and guarded.
He'd walked a dark path alone for so long, he'd thought he'd never encounter a woman who wouldn't flinch at the shadows of his soul, but Adele bore her own shadows.
And she trusted him with them.
Malloryn sighed as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her perfume. Oh, you vexatious woman. What have you done to me?
What was wrong with him? Why could he not deny her?
Was it something within himself that left him so unsure of her?
He kept finding himself with a smile on his lips at the oddest moments, when he thought of her. The memory of her giggling as he tried to wrestle her into bed the night she'd imbibed too much sprang to mind.
"Did you know," she'd said seriously, lying flat on her back when he knelt at her feet and slipped her stockings off, "that I like your Company of Rogues very much. I like you very much too. Not the duke, mind you. I like Auvry though."
"You do realize I am one and the same person," he'd mused, discarding her stockings.
"No, you're not. The duke is cold and serious, and keeps everyone at arm's length, whereas Auvry argues with me, and flirts with me, and he kisses me when he can't help himself. He's my favorite husband. I like torturing the duke, but I adore Auvry. He does wicked things to me on his desk." She'd pressed her finger to his lips. "Don't tell the duke though. He'll lord it over me forever if he thinks I like him. He'd wear this sanctimonious expression on his face the whole time too, as though he thinks he's won. Like this."
And she'd pulled a face that had made him burst into sudden laughter.
"The duke doesn't look anything like that."
"Oh, yes he does!"
He'd kissed her then, and he hadn't meant to, and somehow her hands had woven through his hair and he'd been crawling over her when she suddenly pushed him aside.
"Oh, no," she whispered, a horrified look on her mouth. "Chamber pot!"
He hadn't managed to get to it in time, though she'd somehow managed to find one of his boots propped beside the bed.
Afterwards, she'd groaned as she knelt at the foot of the bed, resting her head on the mattress. "I think I like your boots too," she'd said. "Though I'm afraid they're not going to be your favorite boots anymore. I will buy you new ones though. And I won't let Ingrid measure them."
He'd never laughed as much in his life as he'd laughed that night, helplessly charmed by Adele when she had all her guards lowered.
Imagine what it would be like to spend a lifetime with her, without those walls?
All year they'd tilted at each other, lances shattering on each other's shields and savaged armor.
But his armor was thin and cracked.
Fractures slithered through his fa?ade.