Page 44 of The Dueling Duchess

“You just want me to—”

“Are you a virgin, my lord? Should I be moving more slowly?”

He couldn’t believe it when his face heated. Damn this woman and her saucy mouth!

He adored her.

“Is that something you would like to do—pretend I’m a virgin you could deflower?” He opened his eyes wide and fluttered his eyelashes in an expression of innocent virtue. “Oh, Miss Tremblay, that’s just not the sort of boy I am.”

She laughed. “As intriguing as that game sounds, what I would like is to see you naked. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned and toed off his boots, his fingers fumbling as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Anything you say.”

“Tell me why you, the duke, and your other friend—whoever he is—are on this journey.”

His fingers froze. “Er . . . that isn’t my story to tell. You might want to ask Marianne.”

“I’m asking you.”

He shook his head and gave her a look of genuine regret, dropping his hands to his sides. “I’m sorry, darling, but if what we are about to do is contingent on knowing that, then I’m afraid—”

“Did I say you could stop stripping?” she demanded. “Quit dragging your feet and get on with it.”

He smirked and happily resumed his labor. “Yes, mistress.”

Guy had stripped for women dozens of times but never had one looked at him as carnivorously as Cecile Tremblay.

“I have another question,” she said.

“Hmm?”

“It’s about what you said the other night—about your impending marriage.”

Guy groaned and his hands froze. “Lord. Now there is a question devised to kill a man’s ardor.” He wasn’t jesting. Marriage was a subject he liked to keep far from his thoughts at all times, but especially when he was taking off his clothing in front of a beautiful woman. “Do we have to talk about this right now, darling?”

“Yes, we do. And I never said you could stop undressing.”

He laughed. “Are you always this bossy?” he asked, shrugging out of his waistcoat.

“Always.”

“Fine. What is it that you need to know on the matter?”

“You said you will have to marry for money?”

“Yes.”

“Does marrying for money naturally preclude love and affection?”

Guy pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the growing pile of clothing, gratified to see that her eyes were fastened to his torso, her lips parted, and her throat slightly flushed.

He smirked at her reaction, enjoying it for a moment before she wrenched her gaze from his chest and met his eyes, her own narrowing.

“Yes, you are a fine physical specimen,” she said. “No point in gloating about it.”

“No point in not gloating either,” he pointed out, amused by the way her gaze flickered to his shoulders when he shrugged.

“Answer my question.”