He’s remarkably accurate, and I stifle another laugh. “Well done, Rafe. Maybe you do know me better than I thought. Now. Why did you come here?” “Not to get you out of your dress,” he says, and then his eyes take on a devilish twinkle. “At least, not like this.” “Rafe,” I hiss. His expression gentles into something more sincere, and his hands flex on my back. “I came to apologize.” Not at all what I was expecting. Perhaps because I’m not sure how to take sincerity from the duke, I keep my tone light. “For which thing?”
