Page 3 of The Duke's Vice

“What if I just tell you the address of where I’m going and you see me there?”

The masked stranger held up his hand before she could continue. “Because you should not be at any parties that are being held on this street, regardless of what you’ve been told.”

Beatrice scoffed. “How do you know I am not aware of the goings on in these parties.” She lifted her arms. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m well aware of what I’m walking in to.”

The man’s laugh was getting on her nerves. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” The man said as he picked off a phantom piece of lint from his jacket. His demeanor was cool and collected, as if he were having this conversation in a parlor on a Tuesday afternoon not in a desolate street smelling of piss and ale.

“You nearly choked from swallowing your tongue when I asked if you had ever been kissed by a man and you expect me to believe you are not only aware of what is happening behind those doors but are willing to participate in it?” The man’s snort was adding insult to injury.

“Again, I don’t see how it is any of your concern.” She bit out through gritted teeth.

The man considered her words. “You called me, ‘good sir,’ so it is only right that I act the part.”

Beatrice was unmoved. “So if I called you a dirty scoundrel you would have acted accordingly?”

His eyes sparkled with mischief that had Beatrice taking a step back. Curse her and her loose tongue.

“We’ll never know, will we?” He purred.

Beatrice sucked in a breath before letting it out. He was playing with her.

“What if I offer you a trade?”

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “A trade?” He was definitely playing with her. “What could you possibly give me that I would want and what would I be trading?”

“You allow me to escort you back to the main road and away from Water Street…”

Beatrice folded her arms over her chest. “And?”

“And I’ll give you a kiss.”

Beatrice let out a laugh. “A kiss. From you?” Her laughs came out in little puffs of air against the cool night. “How is that a trade?”

The man took a step closer effectively stopping her giggles. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes. “Because then you can at least say you got a taste of what one of those parties had in store.”

Beatrice sputtered. Defiance settled at the tip of her tongue, ready to spat a disgusted response in his direction when the tiny square of paper scratched at her wrist.

My list.

“I agree.”

The man’s face matched her own surprise.

“You agree?” The man questioned.

“Are you changing your mind? Is your word not good?” She chided.

The man’s features darkened at her insinuation. “I assure you, little mouse, I say what I mean.”

He towered over her as he stepped into her space. Her eyes trailed up his broad chest, past his well-defined jaw line and stopped when they met his doubting eyes.

“As do I, good sir.” The words barely left her mouth when his lips crashed down onto hers.

She felt the pressure of his tongue pushing against her lips and throwing caution to the wind she opened allowing him in.

Their tongues crashed against each other as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. She moaned into his mouth when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter against his hard body.