Page 9 of The Duke is Wicked

Or going in for the kill and echoing his behavior.

What pluck,he thought with a sour smile.What daring.

Sebastian blew out an annoyed breath and traced the scar on his wrist until he lost it in his shirtsleeve. A gorgeous, supernaturally-gifted bundle of trouble who strangely ignited his dormant lust. And an American.Bloody hell.

Here goes nothing. “If I tell you one of my secrets, Miss Temple, which is what an answer to your question would be, then you have to tell me one of yours. A good start? How you came to know my middle name, seemed to stumble over it like a tree root snaking across your path. Like you’d read it inDebrett’sright there in front of me. When you held no book.”

Her fingers trembled on the curved arm of the chair, but her gaze never wavered. Not a flicker. Her bravery in the light of being caught, painted somewhat nebulously into a corner, impressed, he couldn’t lie. But what got him like a punch between his ribs, and deeper, in what might have been his heart, was her expression. One he recognized, not by sight but bylife. Wounded and weary, as he’d looked when his father had plunged his hand in that fountain twenty-five odd years ago.

He’d not only looked, butbeen,alone.

But because of the League—Julian, Finn, Humphrey, Simon, Piper and Victoria—he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Is this a duke’s way of thanking someone for saving his life?” Delaney asked after a tight moment of silence, her lips puckered, the bottom enticingly, unnecessarily, plumper than the top.

Sebastian laughed, unable to call it back, a rusty sound that surprised them both. “By God, you are one brazen piece.” Suddenly dizzy, he dropped his head to the pillow, his vision beginning to spot. It was the first time he could recall a woman outplaying him. “Your kiss wasn’t a dream, was it?”

She hummed softly. “No. Although it was a resuscitation, not a kiss.”

“A resuscitation in front of all of London.”

She hummed again. “Therewasa crowd.”

“Should I propose?”

“Goodness, no, don’t be ridiculous. Princes can’t marry commoners,” she murmured and slid from her chair. He blinked to find her on her hands and knees, reaching beneath the bed.

The Soul Catcher. He’d nearly forgotten, when he never overlooked the gem that diminished his gift. Not once since he’d acquired it.

Sebastian watched Delaney search with a dull ache spiraling through his belly, thinking to call her back, warn her not to touch it. He wanted to believe she wasn’t connected to the League, to Finn’s dreams, tohim. That she was simply a cheeky foreigner with more freedom than sense, more intelligence than wisdom.

Yet, the coincidences were adding up faster than he could tally them.

He wanted to believe. Until the last minute. Until his good luck charm wrapped her fingers around the stone and stepped out of his world.

She was gone for less than a minute, and by that time, he was down on the floor with her, on his knees, shaky and trembling. Her smoke-tinged eyes were open but unseeing, and he had to remove the Soul Catcher from her grip forcibly. Gaslight caught a faceted edge and tossed a glittering crimson fury against the wall.

“Come back.” He dropped the stone to cradle her face. Her skin was soft, her breath, sweet and hot, arriving with her sigh to drift across his cheek. He fought the fierce urge to tuck her into his body andprotecther. When he didn’t want responsibility for this hellion on his shoulders, didn’t want to give one damn about anyone outside those already on his roster. He needed no additional weaknesses.

Her gaze met his, clearing in negligible degrees until she was back in the bedchamber with him.

He shifted her face into the light spilling from the gaslamp on the bedside table. “Where did you go?”

“My attic,” she whispered, caught between that world and this one. He was certain she wouldn’t have answered otherwise. “Illuminated as it’s never been. I could see every page, every line of text. Brilliant sunlight, a thousand candles. But it came with an inexplicable sense of solace. My mind, clear. Silence.” Her smile was joyous and slightly drunken, sending want streaking through his body, more deadly than a bee’s venom. Making himyearnin a way he hadn’t in years, if ever.

Taking him to a desperate place he didn’t wish to inhabit.

He released her with a rough exhalation and rocked back, out of reach.

Looking down at his hands, he realized his fingertips hadn’t heated once during this exchange—and not from control on his part.

Simple distraction. Redirection. Of the Delaney Temple variety.

A woman from whom Sebastian vowed to wrench every secret, while holding on to his own.

* * *

Later that night, Delaney stuffed her hair beneath the plaid paddy cap and regarded herself in the mirror.