Page 12 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

“I suppose I can do that.” She squared her shoulders and looked up at him resolutely. “Very well then, what do you want me to do for you?”

Oh, the myriad possibilities!

But he had to shelf those lewd thoughts for another day.

He grinned at her and leaned closer as he stated his terms.

“A fake betrothal between the both of us—nothing too long, I assure you. Thirty days will do.”

CHAPTER 5

He has gone mad—most certifiably insane!

Alice looked at the man looming over her like a predator, his blue-gray eyes gleaming with wolfish delight as he gazed down upon her as if he was sizing up her potential as a meal.

Was that the reason, then? Was that why he wanted a fake betrothal, and then the minute she dropped her guard, he would pounce on her like the beast that he was and devour her whole?

She shook her head at such ludicrous thoughts. Still, there was no mistaking the hungry gleam in his eyes or the positively feral smile with which he regarded her. He was like those exotic flowers that she had read about once—so beautiful and yet so dangerous.

“Why would you want an engagement with me of all people?” she squeaked. “I must admit that it would be a great convenience on my part, as it would afford me time to search for a more suitable match… but why would you want one?”

She saw his eyes darken with something akin to anger and fought the urge to press herself against the door until her flesh melted into the wooden grain. She had to admit that it was a most impertinent question, asking a man—a stranger—why he wanted a fake betrothal, but she had to know his reasoning. So much unnecessary misery could be avoided in the future if she knew at least that.

Besides, he himself had framed his proposal as one that benefited her, as if he was so certain she would agree. She was determined not to make it so easy for him if only to derive a small amount of pleasure from being perverse.

“Why would you need to know?” He grinned roguishly at her. “Is it not enough that I have offered myself to you for all of one month?”

Alice shook her head and stood her ground. “Thinks’t thou, Your Grace, though her father be very rich, any man is so very a fool to be married to hell?”

He looked taken aback by her reply, almost as if she had just sprouted nonsense.

Almost as the words escaped her lips, Alice wished she could take them back. It was a bad habit of hers, really, and her mama had complained that it only made her appear even more of a bluestocking. Or at the very least, an eccentric.

And no gentleman wants to marry an eccentric woman.

Not that she wanted to marry the man before her, of course! While he was indeed quite handsome and rather distinguished-looking with that lock of dark hair framing his devastatingly gorgeous features, she did not know anything about him.

Nothing good, in any case.

“Was that… Shakespeare?” he muttered. “Are you quoting Shakespeare?”

She nodded morosely. “It is a rather bad habit of mine, you see. I tend to quote the man when I am… uncomfortable.”

“And do I make you uncomfortable?”

Alice shot him a glare. For one thing, he was standing much too close than was appropriate. And another thing, he was basically shirtless, his pants stained with what looked like blood. Her gaze dropped uneasily to his crotch once more.

“Just answer my question, Your Grace,” she persisted. “Why would you want to fake a betrothal with me other than you wanting to eat me, as ludicrous as that may sound.”

She heard him mutter something under his breath, his expression a mix of emotions she could not decipher. She carefully averted her eyes from his once more, only to find herself staring at the bright red splashed across his pants.

“It’s not blood.”

She looked up quickly. “I beg your pardon?”

He sighed. “That bright red on my breeches—it’s not blood.”

“It looks decidedly like blood.”

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