Page 5 of A Bride for the Duke of Sin

Whatever.

Back then, she had certainly seemed like a reasonable enough young woman. Sensible, most certainly.

Who would have thought that Lady Phoebe Barkley had such a side to her? That she could cause so much trouble?

Or that her wrist would feel so small and delicate in his hand?

He stifled the growl bubbling up his throat as he tried to help her off her perch.

Phoebe, however, was having none of it.

She tried to squirm out of his grip, her arm twisting in his grasp like a damned eel. “As if I need another man to order me around and tell me what to do!” she spat at him.

Ethan smiled as he continued to steer her out the doors, his hand still firmly on her wrist and his other hand splayed on her back. Even through the dismal costume she was wearing, he could feel the heat of her skin searing his palm.

It must be from all her pent-up rage.

Once they were outside, he allowed her to shrug him off, watching her bristle in indignation as she glowered at him.

“What gave my disguise away?” She scowled, massaging her wrist. “I did everything Alice ever did?—”

“Your eyes,” he said simply.

Phoebe stopped and looked at him in surprise.

He eyed the delicate wrist he had held briefly and felt a wave of remorse wash over him at having manhandled her so harshly.

She was still a gently bred young lady, pampered and spoiled, no doubt—even if she had proven that she had the ability to raise an unholy ruckus with her presence alone.

“There are many others with hazel eyes,” she sniffed delicately. “I cannot be the only one with that eye color.”

To the best of Ethan’s knowledge, though, no one else had such deep, vibrant green eyes lit with glowing flecks of gold.

But she was right—there were certainly other things that gave away her identity.

“Aside from that, no man in his right mind would bluster up to a bartender and demand the strongest drink in the establishment,” he continued with a mischievous smile. “But there were other things, of course. Should I name them?”

She pursed her lips. “What other things?”

His smile grew ever wider. If she wanted to know, he was not so selfish or unkind as to deny her an important part of her education—and hopefully, she would take it as enough warning to steer clear of places like dubious gentlemen’s clubs.

“Why, it was rather obvious from your ill-fitting clothes that you are not a man.”

He grinned at her, his hand wandering boldly from her back to her waist. He pulled her closer, feeling great satisfaction when her eyes widened, her nostrils flaring slightly as a slight gasp escaped her parted lips.

If he leaned in just a little closer, he would be able to taste those succulent lips of hers. Discover for himself if they were as sweet and luscious as they looked under the flickering streetlamps.

“I must say,” he whispered. “It was your curves that ultimately revealed your identity, My?—”

He was not able to finish his sentence, as the sting of her palm meeting his cheek interrupted him. He grinned at her as helet her go, her chest heaving with furious indignation as she stumbled out of his embrace.

“You are unbelievable!” she fumed.

He laughed and gently rubbed his cheek. Her slap hardly had any effect on him. He must teach her a better way to hit a man—one that would render him unconscious if he dared touch her.

Or even look at her the wrong way.

“I am a Wolf, remember?” he reminded her cheerfully.

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