Duke of Dishonor (Lords of Scandal 11)

He swallowed, clenching his hands to keep from touching her face again. “You’re welcome.”

“May I ask...do I look atrocious?”

“You look beautiful. As always.”

A blush stained her cheeks then. It was the sort of pink that made him think of roses in summer. He closed his eyes. He was about to make a fool of himself. What was it about this woman? He hadn’t dallied with any female in such a long time. Was that the problem? He’d been so focused on his fu

ture, on restoring his name and then solving this mystery. For a moment he considered after…when all those goals were met. Would he marry? Have children?

But he opened his eyes again, looking at Emily. Now was not the time to become this distracted. He hadn’t actually achieved anything yet. But he also had to confess that this attraction was specific to her.

And it was most unwanted. He had an agenda, and she was dividing his loyalties, making him question his plan. His actions.

“I appreciate those kind words, but I don’t want my sisters to worry too much. Tell me…” She lifted her hands to her head. “Should I undo my hair? Do I have any tears in my dress? Noticeable bruises?”

His jaw clenched. She was worried about her sisters now? But that was one of the things he liked about her. In a world that had been so harsh, she was kind and caring.

And she was right. Her hair was a lovely mess.

“Come here,” he said without explanation, and to his astonishment she obeyed.

She squeezed next to him on the seat. He ignored the ripple of pleasure that coursed through him as her hip pressed to his.

He lifted a hand and gently massaged her scalp at its base, finding hair pins and pulling them out one by one. The act was intimate in a way even tupping a woman was not and his body hardened in response.

Emily’s tresses were even silkier than he’d imagined, and he nearly groaned with pleasure as he worked. Her hair tumbled down her back in sections and with each piece, he forgot why he needed to keep her at a distance. What was more important than the light floral scent of her hair?

He’d be free soon. Back in the good graces of the crown, unfettered from these thieves.

Brandon pulled the last pin from her locks and she gave her head a tiny shake sending ripples down the long locks of hair. He wished to run his fingers through the length and let them slide through his hands. Hell, he wished he could bury his face into the mass of it.

Then he’d kiss the column of her neck.

But she lifted her hands to begin braiding the mass of hair and the position thrust her breasts forward. Now, he forgot all about her hair as his gaze fixated on her chest, the narrowing of her waist, the curve of her back.

Bloody hell. How had he stayed away from this woman for so long?

His manhood was thickening and lengthening. Shouldn’t he be too tired for that sort of excitement?

He gripped his thighs to keep his hands to himself.

Because if he lifted them, all his resolve would melt away.

And he couldn’t allow that to happen. Not with her. How did a man touch a woman he’d wronged?

There was an energy in the air that Emily could feel like a physical touch.

Dishonor’s hands had been exquisitely gentle, his breath warm, the heat from his body seeping into her side. And yet, there was something more powerful, electrifying, dancing from his fingertips into her skin when he’d pulled out those pins.

She closed her eyes. He’d saved her for her father’s sake.

But in her fantasies tonight, she’d surely imagine that he’d saved her because… Another blush infused her cheeks. Fortunately, it was getting too dark to see. But she’d dream that he loved her, that he was her knight in shining armor. Of course, her sisters could save themselves. And they now had husbands in the event that they couldn’t.

Emily dropped her arms. Surely, this man who seemed able to conquer the world would want a woman who was just as strong.

She was trying.

She glanced at him. He looked tired but still handsome. Her hand pressed to her stomach.