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“Yes,” I answer. “You are.”
“What if I’m worse than he is? A wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“A wolf in a well-tailored tux.”
That earns me a laugh, and oh, I want to make him laugh again. I want to see the way his eyes crinkle. How dimples appear in his cheeks. How his lips stretch over his perfect, white teeth, and the sound of his warm laughter sends another shot of heat straight through my chest.
He sweeps me around the dance floor, and I vaguely realize that most people have stepped off to watch us. The Duke’s eyes are trained on mine, his hand splaying over my mid-back. Skin on skin. Supporting me. Marking me. Making heat spill over my body in waves.
“I didn’t know you attended this type of event.”
“I don’t,” he answers. “But it’s the young Prince Charles’ first Christmas, and it would be frowned upon to miss it. Even for me.” He grins, and another wave of heat crashes over my thighs.
How is it possible for one smile to have that effect on me? It’s like he knows a secret, and he’s only sharing it with me. It makes my pulse quicken as every inch of my body grows more sensitive. I can feel every finger of his hand on my back. The way his index finger is curled slightly, pressing into my flesh. The way his sleeve brushes against my wrist where our hands are clasped. How the lapel of his jacket feels beneath the fingertips of my other hand.
“What have you heard about me?” the Duke asks, but I have a feeling he doesn’t care about the answer. His eyes drop to my lips, as if he’s only asking something to hear me speak.
“I heard you have women brought to your estate,” I blurt out, immediately feeling a rush of heat and blood blooming over my cheeks.
His eyebrow twitches as mirth sparkles in his eyes. “Oh?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t apologize.” The Duke’s voice drops, sending another thrill coursing through my veins. He pulls me closer, and I catch a whiff of his scent. Strong, heady, spicy. I close my eyes as every cell in my body tightens in anticipation. I wonder if he can see my nipples tightening beneath my dress.
Would I mind if he could? The thought of him seeing my arousal makes my body wind tighter.
“Do you like the thought of women being delivered to my bed?” he asks, not trying to hide the humor in his words.
“No,” I answer, blushing harder.
“Why not?”
I don’t answer. Instead, I just stare into his emerald eyes. They shine brighter than any gemstone in the room. Complicated, unreadable, and totally focused on me.
The music ends, and the Duke drops his hand from my back. He lifts the other hand up, still clasped in mine, and gives the audience a bow. Everyone is staring. Clapping. Whispering to each other behind raised hands.
Count Gregory is there, arms crossed, looking homicidal.
I glance away, squeezing the Duke’s fingers so hard he winces.
Hooking my hand in the crook of his elbow, he leans into my ear. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
Everyone is watching. I shouldn’t follow him. I should excuse myself and find Rhoda, or my parents, or someone more acceptable to speak to.
But my body doesn’t cooperate. I let the Duke lead me across the room as guests part for us like a school of fish around a shark. I can feel their eyes, but the heat of their stares pales in comparison to the fire the Duke has lit inside me.
6
Heath
Count Gregory’s eyes burn holes through the side of my head, and I love every second of it.
Watch me walk away with the woman you’re drooling over. Watch me destroy everything you like, just like you did to me. In a few short weeks, watch me destroy everything you hold dear. Your fortune. Your reputation. Your life.
Hatred burns hot, but there’s something else. Something that wells up from a deeper place, behind the anger and the pain and the loathing.
Why did I feel the need to cut in between the Count and Ada dancing? Why did the sight of them together make me feel like shoving a knife straight through his heart?
