Page 13 of The Duke’s Hellion (Duke Dare #3)

“A toast,” Jacob lifted his hand in the air as Sally stood smiling at his side, “to my bride. I never saw love like this coming, but now I can’t unsee it.

You are my everything. I can’t live without you.

” His voice was quiet, it didn’t boom throughout the room, but his statements were bold.

“To my bride, may she always feel loved and treasured, and because her happiness is mine, may her joy never cease.”

Sam watched and followed suit as the guests raised their glasses and toasted the bride. It was a little (or a lot) over the top for Sam’s preference—a man’s happiness shouldn’t depend on a woman—but he drank in support of his friends anyway.

And even though his body was facing the bride and groom, his eyes were still watching Mimi’s movements. He hadn’t been able to reach her before the toast started. Now she was clinking glasses with Roger. He studied her as she smiled, and took a sip. Could she be any more obvious? And oblivious?

The toast was over. Glasses were being placed on trays carried by footmen that had flooded the room. Now it was time to take action and save Mimi from herself.

As he moved toward her, Chris fell in step behind him.

“You’re actually following me?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“She’s not going to like what I have to say.”

“Has she ever?”

“True.” Sam mulled over that thought. It felt like he was swallowing gravel as he let it sink in.

“Don’t embarrass her, Sam.”

“I wouldn’t. I plan on speaking to her alone.”

Chris raised an eyebrow at that notion, questioning him and his judgment, and he didn’t like it. “How do you plan on doing that exactly?”

“I have my ways.”

“I know your ways, Sam.”

“Not like that. She’s a lady. I’m trying to protect her reputation not seal her fate in scandal.”

“Are you sure?”

Sam stopped abruptly and Chris’s shoulder bumped into him.

The two men looked each other in the eyes.

“Yes,” Sam ground out between his clenched teeth, “I’m very sure.

I have no use for a young, naive girl like Mimi.

Too many opinions. Too much drama. Too many dreams.” And then as an afterthought that really shouldn’t have been an afterthought, he added, “Besides, you know I’m not looking for a wife. ”

“Yes. I do vaguely recall you uttering that vow. Not sure why though.”

Sam scoffed. “You don’t know why?” He stalled for time by repeating his confusion cloaked in disbelief. “You don’t know why? Need I remind you of my father?”

“Need I remind you that you’re not him?”

“This is too much in one evening, Chris. Leave the subject alone. I’m not marrying. She’s too naive, yet too independent. We would fight all the time.”

“So you’ve thought about it?”

Had he? The question shocked him. He had pictured Mimi in a few ways. And seeing them arguing about a silly game or competing against each other for another win…he couldn’t remember if he had actually envisioned a future with her. That would be odd. “She’s not for me.”

“No. She’s not.” Chris pointed toward Mimi and Roger. “Apparently she’s for him.”

The statement labeling Mimi as another man’s belonging cut his airway off. He coughed to gain some oxygen.

There was no more time to chat. With Chris. He needed to talk with Mimi, and that boring bland Roger was not going to stand in his way.

A few more strides and Sam was right in front of Mimi and her vexatious dress that screamed gentle femininity even though he knew the body beneath it was a competitive hellion.

Before he could speak, his throat ran dry while he glared at Mimi.

It took two quick swallows and Chris inserting himself in the conversation before Sam actually spoke.

“Excuse me, Mimi.” Her eyes lazily drew up from his waist (or lower?) and as they fell on his lips, he realized he didn’t have a plan as to how he would get her alone without alerting the guests of his intentions. Ahem—intentions he didn’t actually have.

Chris cleared his throat, side-eyeing Sam. “Roger, Zenobia, might I interest you in a game of piquet.”

“I’d love to join you,” Mimi chimed in.

“Unfortunately, we already have a fourth.” Sam knew it pained Chris to utter that prevarication, and he would owe the man later for his discreet, if not a touch awkward, approach to helping him out.

Mimi’s eyes drilled into Chris, but he wasn’t watching. Smart man. Chris’s attention was all on Zenobia, as if a silent conversation was happening between them.

And while Mimi watched Chris, and Chris watched Zenobia, and Roger, well, he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, Sam studied Mimi and her movements.

Her shoulders were thrown back and her lips tightened into a straight line.

He wasn’t sure how much time he would have with her before she turned on her heel and left him alone to nurture his drink, so he would have to be direct.

Nobi patted her sister’s arm and whispered something inaudible. The moment the three left him alone with Mimi, he didn’t waste a second.

“What are you doing?” Sam threw at her.

“I was talking.”

“You were doing more than talking.”

Mimi huffed and blinked hard. “It’s not as though I kissed the man in front of everyone.”

“I would hope not.” Red. Flashes of red flogged his eyes, and a burning sensation prickled his chest. As if someone had found random bits of kindling around his ribcage and gathered them in one spot in hopes of building a fire.

Kindling he was neither aware of nor needed.

And a fire he neither wanted nor understood.

“I would never allow my first kiss to be in public.”

First? She had yet to be kissed. He knew she was an innocent.

She was far too naive to be anything but an innocent, yet never to have been kissed…

The kindling around his chest had garnered a spark and the spark caught fire.

As he studied her lips—pink and full—they parted, and his chest rose in a deep inhale.

He could imagine himself leaning in and introducing her lips to his.

Giving her her first kiss. What the devil was wrong with him?

How many drinks had he imbibed this evening?

He banished the vision and berated her. That had been the plan. He needed to stick to it.

“You shouldn’t be kissing at all.”

She stuck out her chin. “Don’t be so old, Sam.”

“Don’t be so young,” he returned. It was the best he could come up with in the moment.

She laughed at that. But it wasn’t a laugh he could join in on. It was the kind of laugh a woman produced when she knew she had the upper hand.

Damn.

His face was heating up and his fists were clenched at his side while her eyes were darting around the room looking for an escape. But he needed more time to tell her to stop being a fool.

“Come with me,” he said.

“I think I’ll join my sister—”

“Now.” He caught her eye and intensified his gaze.

“Sam, really.” She had started to plead, but he had already taken her hand on his forearm with the appearance of taking a jaunt around the room. Of course, the plan would be to secure more privacy than that.

“Don’t make a scene, Mimi.”

She sighed, whether in acquiescence or not, he couldn’t be sure; he was too focused on his goal.

There was a door leading outside. He took a quick glance around and stepped through the frame with her.

“Sam, I must insist—”

But because no one could see them now, he hauled her up on his shoulder and took her down the steps into the garden.

“I’ll scream,” she threatened.

“If you were going to scream, you would have already done so. Besides, you wouldn’t actually follow through. That would cause a scandal with results you wouldn’t be too keen on.”

He could tell that she clamped her mouth shut because her arms had crossed and were banging against his lower back as he trod on the grass finding a secluded spot. She kicked her legs a few times, but it was all for display.

Finally, he found a spot hidden away and dropped her to the ground.

“What are you doing? Don’t even think about kissing me.” She rolled her lips inward and placed her hands on her hips.

“I’m not trying to seduce you, Mimi. I’m preventing you from making a fool of yourself in front of Roger. Again.”

“It’s none of your business how I conduct myself with him.”

“Like hell it isn’t. Where’s your father? What are your sisters doing? Why is no one protecting you?”

“My father is busy. Traveling. As usual. My sisters are busy. Married or getting there. And I don’t need protecting.

I can protect myself. Now, get out of my way.

” She shoved at his chest, but he didn’t budge.

Well, most of his body didn’t budge. And if one didn’t count the slight swelling between his legs, then really, his whole body was preternaturally still.

“Move, Sam.”

“Not until we talk.” Talk. That’s all he wanted to do. He had to remind himself.

“What do we have to talk about?”

He scratched his jaw. Another gesture to buy himself time. But in this instance he needed time to first calm the throb of his cock.

Mimi filled the silence, answering her own question. “You know this is the third time you have hauled me out of a place?”

It was probably best that she brought up the topic of conversation, as he couldn’t think in quite the straight line he normally was quite capable of doing. But wait, three hauls? Perhaps she wasn’t thinking right. “Three? I think not.”

“Three!” She pulled her hands free from the crisscross they had been entangled in, and started counting on her fingers. “Right now. The archery. And the beach—”

“The beach. No. Wasn’t me.” He gripped his bicep. Tightly. “Must be your other beau.” He didn’t want to imagine another man touching Mimi. Never mind hauling her over his shoulder so that her breasts bounced against his back.

“Other beau?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t think you know what you mean. I haven’t hauled you out three times.

” He needed to regain control of the conversation.

And somehow regaining control of the conversation entailed him inching closer and closer to her.

They were toe to toe. Mere inches from each other. Her head barely reaching his shoulders.

“Two or three? What does it matter? It’s one or two too many.” The puff of her huff was warm on his jaw, feeling less like ire and more like fire.

Damn her. This woman was vexing beyond belief. If he wasn’t absolutely certain he was sane, he would feel lost in her logic. “Wait. Is it one or two too many?”

“What?” Her face was flushed, he could see it in the light of the moon.

And her eyelids were floating at half-mast. She was enigma at its finest. If he didn’t know better he’d have said she wanted to kiss him, all while he wanted to squeeze his hand into a fist, until he realized it was resting on her hip, pulling her closer to his own heat.

Though he needed an answer to his question, his throat worked hard, rendering his vocal chords useless. Finally, his voice came out raspy. “Well…if it’s one too many, that means one was…acceptable. If it was two too many that means neither time was desirable. I would just like to know which it is.”

“Why?”

Well, that he couldn’t answer. Mostly because he wasn’t willing to admit why even to himself. “No reason other than to lord it over you.”

Her chin tipped up at him, lips parted, like she was about to press up on her tiptoes and make contact with him. She would do that. But she would be the kind to do that for one of two reasons: one, she wanted to kiss him or two, she wanted to shut him up.

Softly, her hand pressed into his chest, where a rabid animal was loosed behind the cage. And just when he was sure that she was going to kiss him, before he could figure out what his response was going to be to that, she turned him on his head.

A low growl escaped her mouth. “You are the worst gentleman I have ever met.”

Hand tightening around her waist, he growled back, “Well, perhaps it doesn’t signify, anyway. The way things are going, it won’t be the last time I haul you somewhere.”