Page 1 of A Bride for the Rakish Duke

CHAPTER 1

“Find me, if you dare,” Lady Artemisia whispered close to William’s ear, stirring him up into a frenzy. “Let us see how keen those instincts of yours are. How wild a wolf you can be.”

He was already on the brink of a ferocious thirst in dire need of quenching, after dancing a scintillating waltz with the fine lady. He had assumed that would be enough to have her eating from the palm of his hand, but she, too, had clearly been schooled in the art of the tease.

“I will not make it easy for you.” Lady Artemisia smiled, her brown eyes sparkling behind her golden rabbit mask. And just like that, she was gone, blending into a sea of similar masks and infuriatingly similar gowns.

“Is rabbit the fashion this Season?” William muttered, trying to spot her raven-black hair. “Did all the ladies conspire to wear pink?”

Anthony appeared at his side, wielding an array of hors d’oeuvres on a napkin. “Something wrong, Brother?” He inhaled a salmon puff. “You look as if you wish to start a fight.”

“Not a fight,” William replied, smirking as he spotted a braided bun of that silky black hair.

Although, there may be a kind of wrestling.

He neglected to add that part for the sake of Anthony’s more innocent ears.

Anthony selected some manner of tiny sandwich and chewed contentedly. “I thought we might venture outside. There are games on the lawn, apparently.”

“Later,” William growled, his blood heating up. “I have something more pressing to attend to.”

With a shrug, Anthony swallowed his mouthful. “Good luck with Lady Artemisia. I fear you might need it.”

Laughing in the back of his throat at his brother’s perceptiveness, for he kept forgetting that Anthony was no longer a child, William set off in search of his prize, prowling through the crowd like the wolf his silver mask marked him to be.

Allowing a grin to creep onto his lips, he came up behind the raven-haired woman and closed his hand around her arm.

A shriek of alarm went up, the woman turning sharply. She wore a golden rabbit mask, and her gown was a dusky pink, but her eyes were a bright, startled blue.

“Your Grace!” she gasped, her gaze flitting to his hand.

He let go as if his fingertips had touched a thorn. “Apologies,” he said as evenly as he could, “I thought you were someone else.”

“I could be someone else, if you wanted,” the young lady replied, her shock transforming into a coquettish intrigue.

A sensation of disgust prompted his nose to wrinkle. There was temptation and teasing, and then there was desperation. One made his blood pound and his loins stir, the other left him cold.

“Apologies,” he said again, moving on before he lost his hunger altogether.

He was more careful with the next few ladies he thought might be Lady Artemisia, speaking her name before he thought about touching anyone. But none were her, and he was beginning to grow impatient, his need becoming an itch that would drive him to madness if he did not scratch it.

Pausing in the center of the ballroom, at the periphery of the dance floor, he scoured the throng of guests with renewed determination.

There you are, my sweet bunny.

On the other side of the ballroom, leaning seductively against one of the French doors that led out into the garden, gleamed a golden rabbit in a pink gown. Dark eyes gleamed, and red lips curled into a sly smile that made his hunger tip toward ravenous.

He walked slowly toward her, weaving through the masses, letting the anticipation build. It was always better that way.

“Looking for someone?” Lady Artemisia purred.

He stood a polite distance away, for this was not the place to get close to her. “Not particularly.”

“I saw you speaking with a few potential replacements,” she said, feigning a pout. “But you should know, Your Grace, no one can do what I do. If you have lost interest, I shall simply have to lavish another gentleman with my affections tonight. Andyoushall have to dream about what you missed. It will keep you awake until morning, I assure you.”

He swallowed thickly, seconds from damning everything and tearing that infuriating pink gown off her, feeding his desire until both of them were entirely satisfied.

“You sound jealous,” he replied with a wolfish grin. “It does nothing for me.”

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