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Her breath caught. She turned away abruptly, her face burning.

“Must you do that?” she asked with her eyes closed, but the image of his half-naked torso was already burned into her memory.

He glanced over his shoulder, the hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Aye, must I? Or are ye pretending to be shocked by the sight of a man’s bare chest?”

“I am not pretending,” she replied stiffly.

His scoff was low, almost mocking. “Don’t play coy, duchess. Ye’ve seen a man’s body before.”

Her head snapped toward him, her jaw tightening with fresh fury.

“The rumors you are referring to were untrue. Just as the ones about your sister were.”

The duke approached her on the bed, his stormy gray eyes meeting hers with intensity.

“And yet,” he said, his tone low and teasing, “ye’re looking at me now, as if trying to prove those rumors false.”

Yvette stiffened, her cheeks flaming, but her gaze betrayed her. She couldn’t help but glance—just once—at the broad expanse of his chest, the defined muscles, and the light dusting of hair that disappeared beneath his trousers.

He noticed, of course. His grin widened. “Like what ye see?”

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, turning away, but her tone lacked conviction.

He inched even closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the wooden floor.

“Just how insufferable am I, when you can barely keep your eyes off me?”

She felt the mattress dip beneath his weight as he sat beside her. Her pulse quickened.

He was close. Too close for comfort, and she had to find a way to put some distance between them.

“You think you know me,” she said, her voice quieter now, as the manly smell of him infiltrated her nostrils.

“I don’t think,” he replied, his tone softening. “I know ye better than ye think,lass.”

Her breath hitched as his hand came to rest beside hers on the bed. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought, yet he made no move to shift away.

The air between them seemed to hum with tension. Slowly and deliberately, he leaned closer, his gaze flickering from her eyes to her lips.

“If you think the rumors about me are true, then you know nothing about me,” she said.

She couldn’t let him get away with teasing her like this.

“Then there’s only one way to find out,” he muttered and leaned forward.

Yvette didn’t move. She couldn’t, she felt she’d be losing if she did, or perhaps deep down, she wanted what he was offering. Her heart pounded, her body frozen between anticipation and panic.

And then came a knock.

They both jolted apart, the spell broken. Killian stood swiftly, running a hand through his hair as he picked up the shirt he’d just removed, and put it on to answer the door.

A young maid stood there, holding a tray of steaming food.

“Dinner for my lord and lady,” she said, her gaze flickering curiously between the duke and his wife.

“Thank ye,” Killian said, his voice curt.