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“Remember who you are speaking to, Ms. Kinderson,” he warned.

Snapping back to herself at his tone, Seraphina decided that despite her interest in him, it was indeed time for him to leave. She despised such intimidation, even toward someone who potentially deserved it.

“I shall walk you out, Your Grace,” she insisted, waving toward the door.

“That would be most kind, thank you,” he replied.

Mary shot daggers at her, but kept her lips pressed tightly closed as the two of them left the sitting room.

“Your Grace, I amso-”

“You really must stop apologizing so much,” Hugo said softly as they walked.

“You did not let me finish,” she went on, which earned her another amused glance from him.

“I apologize for my mother's rudeness, but I also apologize for wasting your time. I do not take such talk well, and whatever business you had in mind by coming here, consider it concluded.”

They stopped as they reached the front door, looking at her as if impressed.

“The fire in you is most compelling, Miss Seraphina,” he praised.

“And your sweet words will no longer work,” she retorted.

Hugo’s wolfish grin sent a shock of strange excitement up her spine, and suddenly, she fought the urge to smile.

“I will go,” he agreed, “But I first I want to leave you with something to contemplate.”

“And what on earth could that be?” She replied testily, though she felt a surge of combative playfulness.

What an effect this man had on her!

“Marry me.”

Seraphina took a step back. He was jesting. Surely!

As if reading her face, he smirked and said, “You said as much at Tristan’s dinner, did you not? If only I were arealnoble, Ibelieve your words were. Well I am real, and I believe we could help one another. You need a rich husband. I need a wife that is not afraid of me.”

“I- why would you want to marry me, Your Grace?” She asked. “We barely know another, and if your reputation is as bad as my mother makes it seem, there will be no consent from my parents to accept.”

Hugo’s smile was slow to form, reminding of her a large, black wolf encroaching slowly on an innocent white sheep. For the first time, she felt intimidated by his presence- and yet still utterly drawn to it.

“Stop that,” she insisted, “Furthermore I do not like how you spoke to my mother. I know she was rude to you first, but did not have to intimidate her so.”

“You are unlike any woman I have ever met,” he said, his voice dipping low as he took a step toward her.

He reached out, slowly, as if giving her a moment to step away if she wanted, and then his fingertips caressed her cheek.

“You grow too bold, Your Grace,” she attempted to say in warning.

“I am simply trying to match my boldness to yours.”

His seductive tone dampened her fighting spirit, and she did not move away despite knowing that she should.

“I… do not like to be touched,” he confessed, stroking his fingers almost lovingly over her soft flesh. “Yet when you reached for me the other night, it was as if I could not wait to feel more of you.”

“Your Grace, you barely know me and it is most untoward of you to speak to me so intimately!” She scolded.

And yet her heart fluttered with excitement; her flesh itched with anticipation under his touch.