Page 100 of The Scottish Duke's Deal

“My rules?” she echoed, voice brittle now. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re the one who insisted you stay in London,” he said too fast.

Her mouth opened. Then closed. Her eyes shone but not with tears. “That was before,” she whispered. “Before I knew what?—”

“What?” he snapped. His voice cracked like a whip. “Before you forgot who you were because of me?”

She stepped back. The blow landed. Not on her cheek but in her breath. In the sudden fragility of her expression. He hated himself for it.

He couldn’t stop himself. “No, we made a deal,” he said bitterly. “You wanted to stay in London forever. I was to return to Scotland.”

“That’s not fair,” she breathed. Her voice was shaking now.

“No,” he agreed, turning from her before the scent of her—lavender and warmth andhome—dragged him back. “No, it’s not.”

“You can’t say that to me,” she said suddenly, louder now, urgent. “Not after everything we’ve?—”

“Everything?” His laugh was low and sharp. “What have I given you, Eleanor, truly? A scandal? A child that’s not even yours? A marriage built on…”

Blackmail.

She winced like he’d struck her.

“You gave me honesty,” she said quietly.

He turned toward her then. Looked her full in the face. “I gave you fear.”

Her breath hitched.

“You gave me achoice,” she said, stepping toward him again.

“I gave you a lie.”

The silence was brutal. He could hear his own breathing. Hers. The clock ticking somewhere down the hall.

Then she moved. Crossed the space between them in two steps, silk whispering around her legs like wind through grass. Her eyes were blazing now. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?”

“Pushing me away before I can push you.”

He looked at her.

God, she was beautiful. Her hair half-loosened, her cheeks flushed, the imprint of his mouth still soft on her collarbone. And her eyes, fierce and confused.

“I’m not a man you can mold,” he said quietly. “You keep trying to make me something I’m not. I know myself. I know my past.”

If she knew about my past…

“I haven’t?—”

“You want me to be civilized. Gentle. The kind of man who fits into drawing rooms and supper parties. But I was made for something else.”

She stared at him.

“I wasn’t trying to change you,” she said, voice trembling. “I was trying to understand you.”

“You were trying to tame me.”