Page 11 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

She gulped again, and he was once more tempted to press his lips to her delicate neck and taste her there.

“I am Alice Barkley, Your Grace,” she murmured. “My father is the Marquess of Brandon.”

The Marquess of Brandon—yes, he was familiar with the name. He had also heard that the man had fallen ill a few months back.

“And why would Lady Alice Barkley be looking for such a book in my estate, of all places?” he continued to question her. “I am certain that your mama would have warned you well enough against associating with… persons with a certain reputation.”

She sighed and looked slightly petulant. “You are right—she indeed warned me about you and the Wolves. So did my friend Scarlett.”

“And still, you find yourself in my bedchamber.” He grinned. “I would like to know more about this fascinating story.”

Her eyes clouded over with sadness and despair. “You might have heard that my father has fallen ill.”

He nodded and continued to toy with the lock of hair twined around his finger. “Indeed, I have.”

“Well,” she sighed, “this is going to be my third Season, and I still have no prospects. Papa has given me an ultimatum—either I bring him a husband in three days’ time, or he will select one for me.”

“And you mean to read such a book to, ah, educate yourself on your wifely duties?”

Somehow, he did not like the idea of her in the arms of another man. The image of her naked body beneath that of a glorified dandy made his blood boil.

She shook her head and burst into woeful laughter. “Oh, dear God, no. I merely meant to have one last adventure before… before I am married off and become a boring old lady, whiling away the rest of my years on earth with such mundane atrocities like planning dinner parties and the like…”

“How absolutely torturous,” he drawled. “But now, here you are in my private chambers with nary a chaperone in sight. What do you think the gossips would say about that, hmm?”

She gawked at him. “You… are not going to tell them, are you, Your Grace?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “I might be persuaded not to—but this scandal will be much too delicious to resist, I gather. Imagine, a young lady such as yourself, alone in a room with a libertine like me. If they ever find out that interesting bit about your search for a particular book, why… the possibilities are endless.”

“You—you would not dare!” she gasped in horror. “I would be ruined. My whole family will be ruined. My sister?—”

He pretended to look affronted. “And what about me, My Lady? Propriety would demand that I marry you.”

He said it with such scorn because that was how he truly felt about the whole ordeal of matrimony.

Lady Alice Barkley, however, appeared to find the prospect just as abhorrent as he did.

“You would not want such a thing, I assure you!” she declared emphatically. “Your Grace, you must know that I have no redeeming qualities?—”

Oh, I could think of two redeeming qualities, a voice in his head whispered as his gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts once more. Very redeeming qualities, indeed.

“Well, I can be persuaded to keep your secret…” He pretended to consider her pleas with a magnanimous expression on his face.

He watched as her shoulders drooped. “What… what would you have me do?”

Triumph welled within him, sweet and bright. He had her right where he wanted her.

“Nothing too scandalous, I assure you,” he reassured her.

“I sincerely hope not!”

“I might even let you read the book,” he added.

She looked up at him in pleasant surprise. “You will?”

He nodded. “Of course, you are forbidden to take it out of this estate—and you must only handle it in my presence.”

She pouted again, and he felt the keen urge to plunder her lips once more.

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