He eased on the shirt with a wince and rose slowly from the chair as he pulled it down over his stomach. It was not hard to miss the swift, heated look she gave him. He scrubbed a hand across his face. No matter how much they tried to convince themselves, returning to being mere friends was not going to be easy after what happened tonight.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite her romantic tendencies, Violet was never one for admiring the male form.
Until now.
Until it was up on a ladder and wearing only trousers and a shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbow.
Her mouth dried. It wasn’t that she did not find men attractive—it was just that she had counselled herself long ago to ignore any advantages of their outer appearance. It was too easy to believe they might be just as wonderful inside as they were outside. Unfortunately, she couldn’t quite recall her strict rules about admiring men right now.
Duke hadn’t spotted her. He tussled with the long length of greenery that had been carefully threaded with ribbons and dried berries. She caught the tentativeness of his movement whilst he fought to drape it over the huge painting of a sunset in Venice. There were no endless paintings of ancestors in the Musgrave household due to Violet’s father growing up poor, but her father had made up for it by purchasing many paintings from artists he reckoned would be exceedingly popular one day. He was usually never wrong.
She caught herself staring at his rear and flicked her gaze upward. Who knew if that was better. As he moved, muscles flexed against his shirt, and she fought the very real need to sigh. This was dangerous. If she continued down this path, their friendship would be in tatters by the time Christmas was over.
As would her heart. Marmaduke Cameron was not the sort of man to stay, and she was the sort of woman to remain loyal to the core.
He grunted and flung the greenery over the corner of the gilded frame, but it dropped, and he cursed under his breath.
“Do you really think you should be doing such a thing in your condition?”
He jolted, wavered for a moment, and gripped the final rung of the ladder. “Good Lord, woman, are you trying to kill me?”
“Not at all. We both know you are invincible.”
He twisted to eye her and smirked. His dimple emerged and that awful desire to sigh bubbled up again. After this, she would need to give herself a stern talking to.
“We do have servants to do that you know.” She motioned to the decoration in his hand. “And none of them just suffered broken ribs.”
“The majority were bruises I believe,” Duke pointed out. “And if I sit around any longer, I may well go mad.”
“I thought your correspondence had been delivered here. Surely you have work you can do?”
He scowled and the dimple vanished. “I’m waiting for word from one of the many investigators I have contacted. I can hardly focus on work.”
“Well, you could just let me continue with my investigation...” Violet gripped the ladder to stabilize it and focused on the worn wooden rungs.
How interesting that there were so many chips and scratches in it. Supremely interesting. Far more interesting than, say, the man above her. Where had Duke even found it? She pictured the servants scurrying around in search of a ladder with a smile.
Then she looked up again. Warmth rose in her chest. Blast, what a mistake. The ladder...all she had to do was look at it and think about the ladder.
“It’s too damned dangerous.” He took a step down and she shifted aside.
“You need to cease cursing. My mother has but one rule.”
“I told you, this situation warrants cursing over.” He stepped down another few rungs. “Most especially when you are insisting upon—” He stumbled as he took the last step down and Violet released her grip on the ladder and moved to steady him.
He got there first, turning and latching his hands around her waist to prevent a fall. She froze. They stood mere inches apart and where his hands connected with her bodice felt like fire. Or maybe ice. That strange sensation between that could be ice cold or burning hot perhaps.
Either way, it made her dizzy with desire. All it would take is another step and she would be able to kiss him. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Why did she hunger for him to crush her to him more than anything? Even if he were not her dearest friend, he would be wrong for her.
“Vi...” Duke moved a hand from her waist to push a curl behind her ear.
She missed the hand on her body, but she liked the slight touch of his finger near her cheek. Too much really. She longed to lean into his touch. Each part of her body felt vibrantly aware of him and at the same time, weak and useless. All logical thought fled.
So what if they were friends? Who cared if he was a rake? Did it matter that someone could discover them in such a compromised position at any moment? She lifted her chin slightly and saw his gaze darken.
∞∞∞