Page 42 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

“You seem to have me mistaken for somebody else,” he sneered, taking another sip of brandy. “Hello, have we not met?”

She looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. Standing in the open doorway, brow furrowed, leaning back as if the room had a putrid odor she was trying to avoid, there was no doubt on his mind that for all the joy the two had shared in this day, those old feelings she felt for him of disgust and loathing were slowly starting to creep back into her frame of conscience.

“Forgive me,” she said, a slight sneer. “The man whom I was speaking with earlier, he must have left.”

“No, he is still here. He is just bored with playing your little game is all.”

“And what game is that?”

“Pretending that the sight of you doesn’t make him want to wretch.” He hated saying it, but he stayed strong…

“Is that what you were doing, was it?” she sneered at him, taking a step into the room, seeming to ready herself for his attack. “Because you sure had me fooled.”

“Is it my fault that you are simple?”

“I must be that. For only a true dolt could have mistaken you for anything close to a gentleman. What I should have realized was that the dogs kept as pets by the stable hands might have made for better company.”

His eyes widened at the slur. For as rude as he was being, Frederick was still not used to being spoken to like that. And while deep down he knew he deserved it… that did not make it any easier to bear.

“Too good for you, I am afraid. I heard some of them howling earlier, and I can only assume the cause was that they saw you walking by, and unable to literally tear their own eyes out, they became lost in a frenzy.”

Her eyes flashed. “How dare?—”

“Now please,” he spoke over her and waved her away, “begone from my sight. Do us both the favor.”

There, that should do it. Not a pleasant experience, but Frederick allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, certain that this here would be the end of their little dalliance. It had to be!

“No.” She stepped into the room fully and crossed her arms.

“No?” he baulked.

“No,” she said again. “Not until you tell me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you are acting this way.” She raised both eyebrows at him. “For I do not believe for a moment it was some… some act.” She scoffed. “Unless what they say about you is true.”

Sensing that he was not going to like the words she brandished, Frederick put down his glass of brandy. “And what do they say?”

“Many things,” she sneered. “But some choice words thrown around—today, mind you. I heard them all. Arrogant. Pigheaded. Egotistical to a point where I heard two men wondering how you managed to stand with a head that large. And, oh yes, an eyesore that would make the Hunchback of Notre Dame blush.”

Fury. White hot anger. It flooded Frederick in that moment for never in his life had he been insulted like that. Without thinking, without being able to, he stood quickly and strode toward Miss Dowding. A big man, he bore down on her like a monster from myth, fully expecting her to retreat and flee as he wished.

But she stayed firm, arms still crossed, glaring up at him as if her eyes might spew fire and set him alight. And oh, how dangerous it was.

He could feel it happening again. As with the first time, as with the second, it was her cantankerous nature which pulled on him like nothing he had felt before. That desire to take her in his arms, to hold her down, and to remind her who was in control here was more than he could bare.

And the way that she looked… the tight green dress, how it pushed up her breasts and hugged her curves. The fire in the room’s hearth too, flickering off her white skin, making it glimmer from a light sweat. Her eyes were mischievous, her lips were tempting.

“Is that what you think?” he growled, feeling his blood pulse through his body, his legs shaking, his mouth salivating. “Is that how you see me?”

She scoffed. “That and worse.”

Even in her rage, he caught her eyes flicking over him. He saw a look behind them that he recognized because he had the same in his own eyes. A hunger behind them, a yearning that was the very reason she did not leave when he told her to. Oh, she might claim to despise him, but in that moment, he understood well enough the real reason she had followed him here.

Dangerous… and so very, very tempting.

“Is that so,” he snarled at her. “And when we first met? Somehow, I doubt you held me in that same view.”

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