Page 17 of The Duke Meets His Match

Chapter Six

“Why trouble yourself to find me?” Chloe said.

The duke walked forward, all lean muscle and power. “We have unfinished business.”

“Do we? I thought everything had been said.”

“Not quite.”

She stood and faced him squarely. “I came to your home and explained that I am a different person than I was in my youth, but you chose not to believe me. You threatened me to stay away, and when that didn’t work, you tried to bribe me.”

“And when that didn’t work, I kissed you,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

She felt an unwelcome surge of excitement. Her memories of the kiss were pure and clear. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

“Why? I can’t seem to forget about it.”

Goodness. She’d felt the same, but she would never admit it.

“Why Henry?” he asked.

Was he serious? Because Henry was young, handsome, kind, titled, and would make a splendid choice for any debutante this Season. Why should she be any different?

At her silence, his expression hardened.

“From what I saw, you already have another suitor. Fairchild’s heir. You can choose him over Henry.”

Was he jealous? The thought should make her turn and flee the gardens like a woman chased by footpads. Instead, it made her skin tighten. “I don’t do well with orders.”

“That’s a shame, because I’m used to having my commands followed.”

She raised her chin and eyed him defiantly. “By men. I’m a woman if you haven’t noticed.”

His gaze raked down her body, then returned to capture her eyes. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”

She flushed as an alarming heat traveled through her limbs. Clearing her throat, she struggled to maintain even ground with him. “That’s not what I meant…and you know it, Your Grace.”

“Don’t call me that. My name is Michael.”

Her pulse skittered. “Why on earth would I use your Christian name?” It was entirely improper, scandalously so. But then, nothing about their relationship was proper.

“I’m new to the title. It belongs to my father and brother.”

She knew about the tragic carriage accident that had killed his father and brother and left him with a dukedom. Was he devastated to come back unscathed from war only to learn his remaining family wasn’t there to welcome him home?

Or maybe he wasn’t unscathed. She recalled the strange episode at Bullock’s Museum outside the room that housed Napoleon’s carriage. He hadn’t seemed well…but rather injured in mind, not body. It had struck her as strange behavior for such a dominant and powerful man.

Michael. The name suited him. Not “Your Grace” or “duke” or “Cameron,” but simply Michael.

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and she bit her lower lip.

“You shouldn’t do that. It makes me want to kiss you again.”

She fought the pull. He was bad for her, and heaven knew, she had been bad enough in her past. She refused to ruin her future. “You are just saying that to distract me, to ruin my chances with Henry.”

“I should be, but I mean every word.” Reaching out, he trailed a finger down her cheek and then across her bottom lip. She was shocked by the simple touch, gentle and mesmerizing. How could a man with calloused fingers hardened by battle be so gentle?

“I’ve wanted to touch you all through the conservatory tour,” he said. “And here…now…I finally have you alone.”