Page 13 of A Virgin for the Duke of Thorns

“Because I intended it to look that way,” he clarified. “It is paint. I was… painting.”

“You… were what?”

Alice nearly kicked herself for such an imbecilic response to his confession. He had just explained to her what the stain on his breeches was, and here she was, acting like an absolute half-wit.

“Painting.” He grinned wolfishly at her again. “And I am not going to eat you—not unless you ask nicely, of course.”

She bristled at that. “Who would I want to be eaten by you?” she muttered, shifting her gaze away from him. The man was certainly much too dazzling for his own good. Alice had no doubt that if she rejected his offer, he could go out and ask the first woman he saw, and she would have accepted it in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

But then again, she was truly one who went against her own best interests, was she not?

“Why do you need me?” she asked him again, her voice softer.

She had to know. Alice was never one who wanted to be left in the dark, and if the Duke of Thorns could not be honest with her, then there was no reason to agree on anything, was there?

She gazed defiantly back at him. The ball was in his court now.

* * *

Colin had never met a more intriguing woman in his entire life. Not only did she admit to trespassing into his own estate, but she even boldly admitted that she intended to steal from him. Not just anything, no—she intended to steal a highly scandalous libertine book, the likes of which would send the regular debutante into paroxysms of terror.

Did Lady Alice Barkley have any idea what she was asking for? He would hazard a guess that she did not—the young lady was as much an innocent as a lamb.

A highly audacious, mischievous lamb who dared to wander into the den of a Wolf.

He smirked to himself. The analogy was hard to miss, really.

She was also extremely persistent. Foolishly so. She insisted on knowing the reasoning behind his ludicrous proposal, regarding him with a gaze that doubted his sanity—or his dietary preferences.

The truth, however, was always far less exciting than what one expected.

“My sister will be making her bow this Season,” he finally admitted. “As you very well know, I do not exactly have the most stellar reputation in the ton.”

“That is putting it rather lightly.”

He frowned at her. He was well aware of his faults, damn it, but did she have to agree so easily to it?

“In any case, I need to fix my reputation, and I have been told that a betrothal to a nice young lady of unimpeachable reputation will set things straight,” he finished. “Not that it could undo my years of debauchery, but it will be a good start.” His gaze roved over her from head to toe. “Although I highly doubt that sneaking into my estate under cover of darkness is commendable behavior for a young lady—” He raised an eyebrow at her. “—you will do.”

The sound that came out of her was one of shock and barely suppressed feminine outrage.

“I will do?” she all but shrieked.

He nodded his head firmly. “No one better for the job, I assure you.”

“Maybe because of the great lack of women you can blackmail!”

“I am not blackmailing you.” He smirked. “I am offering you something else.”

“What a nice way of wording it!” she flung back scathingly. “Aside from not divulging my misadventure here tonight, what could you possibly offer me?”

Oh, a great many things, he wanted to tell her. Instead, he held up three fingers.

“Just three words, little lamb,” he told her, purposefully lowering his voice in the hope that it would make her drop her guard. “La. Nouvelle. Justine.”

She looked at him in surprise. “You would give the book to me?”

“Not give. Lend,” he corrected her.

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