Desiring the Devil of Duncraven (Secret Wallflower Society Book 3) by Jillian Eaton

Author:Jillian Eaton [Eaton, Jillian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-25T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

That evening, Lucas had invited Percy to dine with him.

She was reluctant to accept the invitation. After her impulsive kiss, she didn’t trust herself around him.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

Still, between taking a tray of food in her bedchamber and being allowed to move about the house, what choice did she have but the latter? True to her word, Bessie had drawn her a bath, and after soaking in the luxurious bubbles for what felt like hours, she’d dressed, brushed out her hair, and joined her kidnapper in the dining room.

Lucas stood when she entered, those golden eyes sliding over her with an intensity that had her plucking self-consciously at her skirt.

“I…I didn’t know what to wear,” she said, gathering a handful of muslin fabric. The blue gown with its ivory brocade overlay was far more suited for a night at the theater than a simple dinner for two, but in her haste to pack, she hadn’t brought anything more suitable.

“It’s perfect.” Lucas swallowed audibly, then walked down the length of the long table draped in white cloth and pulled out a chair. “I hope you’re hungry. Bessie has outdone herself.”

Feeling rather like a hen sitting down to dine with a fox, Percy sank gracefully into the chair and braced her hands on the armrests as Lucas slid her towards the table. He lingered behind her a full minute more than he should have, and she could have sworn she heard the gallop of his heartbeat through his impeccably tailored waistcoat before he moved away.

“This is lovely,” she said when the food arrived.

Lucas grunted in agreement, and they began their meal in the prickly, awkward silence of strangers left alone together. Which was what they were, of course. Strangers. Except when she’d kissed him, he hadn’t felt like a stranger. In those moments of heat and passion, her soul had recognized his.

And in that recognition she’d found the acceptance she had been starving for all her life.

Now they sat at opposite ends of a table that might as well have been an ocean, and Percy honestly didn’t know if she wanted to sail as far away from him as she could possibly get, or dive overboard and swim straight into his arms.

Within the first choice lay the opportunity to escape. With the second came almost certain death. Certainly there’d at least be sharks. Yesterday, the decision would have been obvious. But suddenly the answer wasn’t so clear.

“The chicken is excellent,” she said tentatively, her fork poised in mid-air. “Very moist.”

“Bessie is a good cook,” Lucas replied. In the flickering candlelight, he appeared every inch the formidable rogue that he was. But for some reason, Percy wasn’t intimidated.

Quite the opposite.

Against her will, she found herself drawn to Lucas’s inherent wickedness. His dark charm had mesmerized her. His mysterious allure had captivated her. She should have been terrified of him. Especially after everything she’d endured at the hands of her husband. But despite what Lucas was, and despite what he’d done, there was one thing that set him apart from Andrew.

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