Page 16 of Stolen By the Rakish Duke

She studied him with renewed curiosity, as if this small physical anomaly had provided some insight into his character that his words had failed to convey.

Her scrutiny was uncomfortable in its intensity, as though she might peer through the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world and glimpse the damaged creature beneath.

“Is that where you were all evening? Riding through places?” she asked, her voice still low.

“My whereabouts are not your concern,” he replied, taking a step back from the dangerous territory of her perceptiveness. “Justas yours will not be mine, once our period of adjustment has passed.”

“I find it curious,” she remarked, her tone measured, though he detected a subtle undercurrent beneath her composure, “that you speak of separation with such certainty, as though Philip’s whereabouts are the only impediment to our parting ways.”

Leo weighed her words, realizing they carried no bitterness toward their bargain but a clear-eyed judgment of his rush to end it.

The thought unsettled him, stirring a reluctance to face his own eagerness to mark the terms of their parting.

“Our arrangement was established with mutual benefit in mind,” he reminded her, though privately he questioned why he felt compelled to justify terms they had already agreed upon. “We both understood the nature of this alliance from its inception.”

“Indeed,” she replied, her gaze direct and unwavering, revealing an acuity that few in Society would have credited to the quiet daughter of Ironstone, according to the brief research he did on her before their wedding. “Yet one wonders what benefit you derive that could not have been derived through other means. Surely you needn’t feel so bound by duty to your cousin as to choose so permanent a remedy as matrimony?”

Leo felt his patience wearing thin. The way her direct gaze caused a tightening in his chest, the way in which her forthright challenges penetrated defenses long thought impregnable…

She both infuriated and fascinated him. And the fascinated part mostly wished to see just how much bite her lips had if he tasted them.

Focus, Stagmore.

“I gain the satisfaction of having rectified my cousin’s dishonorable behavior, and the knowledge that my family name has not been tarnished by his actions. That should be a sufficient explanation.”

“For most men, perhaps,” she relented, her perceptiveness once again disconcerting him. “But you, as you’ve said, are not most men, Your Grace.”

A smile spread across his lips, sharp and sudden.

Little minx.

Yet the thought carried a grudging note of admiration. She remembered everything he said and used his own words against him with unnerving precision.

Trust her to be as quick-witted as she was beautiful.

He turned toward the door, suddenly eager to escape the tension crackling in the air between them.

“I shall leave you to your rest now, Duchess. We will continue our discussion tomorrow, when you are well rested.”

“I shall anticipate it eagerly,” she replied, her tone making it abundantly clear that she anticipated no such thing.

He stopped before moving away. Some devil of perversity compelled him to reassert control over the encounter, to leave her with a reminder of precisely who he was and what power he wielded.

“Your sarcasm is noted, Duchess,” he said, watching her eyes narrow. “But I’ll see to it that your words prove true. Most women anticipate my company. Some even hunt for it.With enthusiasm.”

Her chin lifted, a spark of defiance illuminating her features in a way that Leo found compelling. Even in the face of his deliberate provocation, she refused to yield.

“Then I shall consider myself an anomaly, Your Grace. For I assure you, I will never beg for your attention.”

Leo found himself captivated by the challenge in her words, the invisible gauntlet thrown between them.

He closed the distance between them with deliberate slowness, watching as her eyes widened with each step he took, noting the subtle quickening of her breathing, the tension that gathered in her slender form.

He bent forward until his face hovered mere inches above hers, close enough that he could detect the faint scent of lavender that clung to her hair, close enough to see the rapid pulse at the base of her throat.

Her proximity affected him more than he cared to admit, awakening impulses he had thought himself master of.

His gaze dropped deliberately to her lips, lingering there with unambiguous intent before rising again to meet her eyes. He noted with satisfaction the flush that had risen to her cheeks, the hitch in her breath despite her defiant words.