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Severin wasn’t handsome in comparison to the Challons—of course, what man would be?—nor was he handsome by strictly conventional standards. But there was something about him that women seemed to like. West was damned if he knew what it was. Severin’s face was lean and angular, his build lanky and almost rawboned, his complexion librarian pale. His eyes were an unevenly distributed mixture of blue and green, so that in strong lighting they appeared to be two entirely different colors.
Umm, he sounds hot
Staring into her silver eyes was like drowning in moonlight. West found himself at a complete loss for words.
“I can tell by the books you read.” Turning to Kingston, Pandora explained, “They’re all about things like scientific butter making, or pig keeping, or smut. Now, who could possibly find smut interesting?” “Not that kind of smut,” West said hastily, as he saw the duke’s brows lift. “You’re referring to the multicellular fungi that afflicts grain crops, of course,” Kingston said blandly. “There are all different kinds of smut,” Pandora said, warming to the subject. “Smut balls, loose smut, stinking smut—” “Pandora,” West interrupted in an undertone, “for the love of mercy, stop saying that word
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This was the first time Phoebe had ever felt so drawn to a stranger, and for it to be a man who was all brawn and boorishness was a cruel joke.
He smelled of soap, male skin, clean earth and meadow grass, and every breath of him made her feel warm in places that hadn’t been warm in years.
He needed to be either right next to her or very far away from her. Anything in between was torture. Knowing she was in the same house or somewhere on the estate, somewhere reachable, made every cell in his body ache to find her.
Of all the mistakes in his life, and God knew there had been many, the worst had been kissing her. He would never recover from it.
This was the truth her body couldn’t hide—she wanted this, his hunger, his heart pounding against hers.
“I want you with my entire body.” West dragged his mouth over hers, shaping her lips before settling in for a rough and ardent kiss.
“You’re all I think about. You’re all I see. You’re the center of a star, and the force of gravity keeps pulling me closer, and I don’t give a damn that I’m about to be incinerated.”
“You’re too perfect to be entirely human. You belong to some higher order—not quite an angel, but close. No woman in my life, before or after you, will ever thrill me as you do. I don’t know what to call this. But I do know you should be worshipped by a man who’s earned the right—and that man is not me.”
Oh, God, how she wished she could forget. West should have faded from her thoughts by now, but he hadn’t.
“I’m haunted by you,” he said brusquely. “I can’t seem to stop looking for you everywhere I go. When I went to London, I tried to find a woman who could help me forget about you, even for one night. But no one has your eyes. No one interests me the way you do. I’ve cursed you a thousand times for what you’ve done to me. I’d rather be alone with a fantasy of you than have a flesh-and-blood woman in my arms.”
West said little as they went from room to room. He was feeling everything too deeply and struggling to hide it beneath the façade of a normal, reasonable person. It seemed as if his heart had just resumed beating after months of dormancy, forcing blood back into his veins until he ached in every limb.
It was clear to him now that he would never find a substitute for Phoebe. No one else would ever come close. It would always be her. The realization was beyond disaster . . . it was doom.
A wave of tenderness came over West as he looked into her upturned face. He longed to tell her how completely he accepted her, wanted her, how he adored her every strength and frailty.
The trusting and natural gesture felt better than anything he’d ever known. Gradually he turned his face until his lips touched the molten red gleam of her hair. All his life, he’d secretly yearned for this moment. For someone to turn to him for comfort.
“How can you be so beautiful?”
West’s fingertips traced the fine edges of her face. “There’s no future for us. We both have to agree on that.” Her chin dipped in a single nod. “But you’ll be mine for as long as you stay at Clare Manor.” His voice was soft. “I’m already yours, love.”
“I want you too badly, love. I want you the way dry earth soaks up rain. There may have been a time in my life when I could have seen you like this and still had some hope of self-control. Although I doubt it. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.”
A heart could make as much room as love needed.
“You’re like silk. Every part of you is so fine . . . so sweet. I won’t stop next time. I love to watch when you reach the peak . . . the look on your face . . . always a little surprised . . . as if it’s something you’ve never felt before. You blush the color of a wild rose, everywhere . . . your little ears turn so hot, and your lips tremble . . . yes, just like that . . .”
