The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(49)
“I retrieved your old boots from the rubbish heap and gave them to the bootmaker. He was able to construct this pair from those measurements.” Seeing the way he caressed the leather shaft, almost reverently, she ventured, “Do you…like them?”
“They are very fine. Finer than any I’ve owned,” he said softly.
Relief and pleasure hummed through her. “Oh. I’m glad.”
Clearing his throat, he said, “As it happens, I have something for you as well.”
She faltered into stillness, her heart jerking oddly. “You do?”
He replaced the boot in the box and went to his jacket, which hung on a hook on the wall. Rummaging in one of the pockets, he returned with a small package.
“It’s just a trifle,” he muttered.
Bennett brought me a gift! Whatever it was, she would treasure it forever.
With trembling hands, she took the parcel, removing the cheerful yellow ribbon and brown paper. Her eyes widened at the sight of the tin, which was affixed with images of hearts, flowers, and cherubs.
“How pretty.” Opening the lid, she breathed, “You brought me lemon drops?”
“I told you it wasn’t much.”
“Lemon drops were my favorite as a girl. I haven’t had one in ages.” Eagerly, she selected one of the jewel-like confections and popped it into her mouth. The tart sweetness spread over her tongue like sunshine. “These are delicious. Would you like one?”
Belatedly, she remembered to offer him the tin.
His lips twitched. “Thank you, no. But I’m pleased you enjoy them.”
The fact that he’d thought to bring her a present, that he’d thought of her at all, made her buffle-headed with happiness. “When did you have time to go to a confectionary?”
“It was, er, on my way.” He shoved his spectacles up his nose. “I returned your friend’s cloak.”
Her chest melted as sweetly as the candy on her tongue. He was such a good chap, one who was always good to his word. “Thank you for remembering Belinda. And for the sweets.”
“You’re welcome.”
Their gazes held in the intimate, flickering light. A charge of awareness electrified her senses. Yearning ripened every cell of her being until she felt she might burst with anticipation.
He reached out, his knuckles grazing her cheekbone, and her breath hitched. He was looking at her intently, almost as if he were seeing her for the first time. And, for once, his rich brown gaze was unguarded…and smoldering with longing.
“Christ, Tessa,” he said hoarsely. “I want you.”
His admission weakened her knees.
“Then take me, Bennett,” she whispered. “I’m yours.”
* * *
How the devil could he resist her?
From the moment she’d awkwardly given him the new pair of boots, he’d known there was no more fighting his attraction to her. To this woman whose willful exterior hid a pure, generous, and fiercely loyal heart. A woman who wouldn’t betray the whores who were her friends, even if keeping her word was to her own detriment. Who treated a tin of lemon drops as if they were diamonds. Who looked at him as if he made the sun rise for her…just by being who he was.
By God, he was tired of reining in his desire for her. He wasn’t going to any longer.
Whatever the consequences, he would deal with them—because Tessa was his.
He cupped her face in his hands, drinking in the beauty of her eyes, her petal-soft skin, her lush mouth. Then he lowered his head, and the taste of her, part tart, part honey, and all Tessa, was more thrilling than a scientific discovery. More potent than any blasting powder.
Her hands slid into his hair, and he shuddered at their insistent grip, the eager press of her dewy lips against his. In an easy motion, he swept her into his arms, carried her to his bed, tossing his glasses on the bedside table. He lay her down, and her luxuriant sable curls spilled over the threadbare quilt, her eyes a glowing beacon in the darkness.
Lying beside her, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Are you certain you want this, sweetheart?”
“As certain as death.” She reached up, tugged at the lapels of his robe. “Do hurry, please.”
At her unabashed eagerness, he fought a smile. “What’s the rush?”
“I don’t want you to change your mind,” she whispered.
His chest clenched at the insecurity in her beautiful eyes. It amazed him that she could be so strong yet fragile at the same time. And he hated himself for ever causing her to doubt herself.
Cupping her jaw, he said firmly, “I’m not going to change my mind, sweetheart. And I’m not going to rush either. I’m going to take my time with you.”
“So you will…make love to me?”
“I’m going to pleasure you, sweeting, but I won’t take your virginity.”
As a gentleman, he wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t do anything irrevocable until he knew for certain that he could do right by her. That she would want him to…after she learned that he’d been lying to her this entire time.
Guilt knotted his chest. For a wild instant, he contemplated letting the truth spill out: his position with the police, his mission to stop the hellfire, his real name. But Tessa was a daughter of the underworld, her hatred of the police ingrained.