Page 7 of Trapped with her Cruel Duke

Perhaps I am.

“And why do you say that?” she asked softly.

“Because you have managed to wrap my brother around your little finger. There wasn’t a week that went by that he didn’t visit your house for some reason or another. You led him astray and ultimately to his tragic end.”

They were inches away from one another now. As he lowered his hand, his fingers brushed her dress. The pleasurable shiver that ran through him at the brief contact was shocking in its intensity, and he looked down into bright blue eyes that were very much like ice.

“I did not lead Lord Marcus anywhere. We are friends, that is all.”

“Is that right? I had assumed you were keeping him at a distance, waiting for a higher-ranking match. I would be happy to oblige.”

She scoffed but still did not move away from him. “Your brother never wanted me, and I never felt anything for him. In any case, you cannot be sure that Lord Marcus is dead.”

“That is precisely what I wish to find out.”

“And you plan to do so bymarryingme? What purpose can that serve?”

“Quite simple, Lady Louise. The Earl will become my father-in-law. Therefore, I will have every excuse to question him about his activities before Marcus’s disappearance. More importantly, by taking you as my wife, I can prevent him from receiving help from anyone else.”

She frowned. “Help for what?”

“Come now, you are not such a simpleton that you cannot see the writing on the wall. A financially secure man does not sell his daughter to the highest bidder.”

That tongue darted out once again to wet her full lips, her brow furrowed behind her mask. He found himself wishing to see her face, wondering what she might do if he ripped her mask away without permission.

“My father despises you. That will not change if we marry.”

“But itwillprevent another man from filling his coffers before I have a chance to discover the truth. You know what they say—desperate people have looser tongues. If I need to know something, he’ll have to tell me, and I intend for us to wed without delay.”

She stared at him in bewilderment. “You are a scoundrel, Sir.”

Christian inclined his head. “If the shoe fits.” His hand itched to touch her hair again. “The last place I know Marcus went to wasyour home. He told me he had something to discuss with your father. I had assumed he wished to propose to you. How ironic.”

Her gown was brushing against the tips of his shoes. One step closer and there would be no space left between them at all. He would be able to wrap his arm around her waist, allow her exquisite scent to envelop him, and press his body fully against her, feeling the swell of her breasts against his chest.

Christian’s breathing had quickened, as had hers, and he held her gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.

“Besides,” he murmured, “there are few women of my acquaintance who do not wish to marry me… among other things.”

Her eyes flashed. “Well, I certainly do not understand their reasoning. You have proved yourself to be despicable, proud, and arrogant, Your Grace. It is only too bad that you are not more like your brother.”

Christian lost the battle with himself and raised a hand to touch her hair again. Quick as a whip, her hand came up as though to slap him. He caught her wrist, holding her firmly against him as he clutched her waist with his other hand and pushed her against the desk behind them.

She gasped, their bodies aligning perfectly, just as he had pictured it. The pale ribbons in her hair shimmered in the candlelight, and Christian felt the heat of her against him. Hestroked her wrist with his thumb, watching the movement even as she tried to tug herself free.

As she tried to pull away, he used his larger body to pin her against the desk until she was leaning back, arching away from him, but her eyes never left his face.

“Whether you wish I were more like my brother or not, that means nothing.” He pushed against her more boldly, and that perfect tongue came out to moisten her lips. They were plump and full in the half-light, a sheen on them that he was desperate to taste. “From now on, your hand, your body, even your breaths belong to me. I would suggest you accept it because I intend to own what is mine.”

His voice was a low growl by the end, and he felt a shudder travel through her whole body. She was impossibly beautiful—sparkling eyes looking up at him like diamonds. The jewels on her dress glittered, and she truly did embody an ice queen.

With an immense effort, Christian slowly pulled away, letting go of her wrist when he was sure she would not try to hit him again. She seemed stunned and overwrought, her breath coming out in sharp bursts.

He stepped away and straightened his clothes, ensuring he looked as untouchable as ever before rejoining the party. He bowed low, walked to the door, and turned back to find her utterly speechless.

“I am going to find out what happened to my brother, Lady Louise. You will be the means, and I will claim you as my own.”

CHAPTER 4

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