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Perhaps she should stay away from the fearsome Duke of Wolverton for her own good.

And her sanity.

There was not a more infuriating woman in existence.

Incredibly infuriating and undeniably alluring in a way that made other parts of him stir to attention.

Bad idea.

Hudson fumed as he chipped away at the huge chunk of marble before him, dust trailing from his fingers.

Women like Lady Scarlett Clarke were where logic and self-control went to die, and he did not think he wasthatfar gone yet. No, Hudson prided himself on being the master of his desires.

And hers, if you were inclined to take the lady up on her offer,a small voice in his head whispered insidiously.

Well… he did have a problem withthatparticular proposal of hers because he shouldnotbe feeling piqued that she did not relish the thought of marrying him.

And just where did she get the sheer audacity to actually consider roping in another fool to take his place? She even possessed the nerve to fling it back in his face!

The most disconcerting thing about that matter was that he still could not decide whether he feltamazedor furious that a woman—whose head barely reached his shoulders and whose weight was probably half his own—possessed the gumption to stand toe to toe with him and challenge him in his own study.

But as tempting as the offer was becoming, he would do much better to refuse it. In fact, logic dictated he do precisely that.

He did not understand why he was still considering a partnership with her, knowing just how capricious she could be.

He sighed in frustration and tossed his tools onto a table covered in marble dust, hammers, chisels, and polishing cloths. When he took a step back, it was all he could do not to groan.

The rough hulk of stone before him was far from finished, but the shape it had begun to take was all sinuous curves and flowing lines. A rounded hip, the shadow of an ample bosom.

Damn it, had she just wormed herself so deep into his thoughts that he had carved her onto marble? He ran a hand over thestony flare of a hip and flinched, drawing back as if he had been scalded.

“Your Grace?” one of the servants said timidly.

“What?” Hudson growled, his eyes still narrowed on the offensive form his sculpture had taken.

“Miss Josephine has arrived. Shall I send her to the usual rooms?”

Josephine. Right. He had almost forgotten that it was close tothattime of night.

Another time, he would have appreciated her punctuality, but Hudson was not in the mood for it at present.

“Tell her that I am currently occupied,” he snapped at his servant instead. And then, belatedly realizing that he had allowed his damned emotions to get the better of him, he added in a more measured tone, “Tell her that I will send for her some other time.”

“As you wish, Your Grace.”

Hudson glowered at his crotch. His cock would normally be eager at the mere prospect of sinking into a woman’s soft, willing flesh, but the mere mention of Josephine had hisfleshshrinking.

What the hell was wrong with him?

But when he raised his eyes to his half-finished sculpture, the stirring in his loins began anew and with much greater fervor. The thought of his hands cradling those hips as he drove himself into wet, heated flesh had him stiffening with pure, undiluted desire. Those luscious red lips of hers would be parted on a moan as he thrust into her… right before he made her scream in wild abandon.

He leaned over the table, bracing his hands on the edges, as he furrowed his brow. He had had so many women in the past, but none of them had ever had the same effect that a certain redhead had on him. For a woman to control his desire was a dangerous thing.

Who knew if control was the only thing he would lose in her presence?

He reached out for his chisel and mallet as the thunder shook the windows and rain lashed against the glass.

Downstairs, his mother should be entertaining their guests over dinner.