Page 58 of The Dark Duke's Virgin

Luckily, she turned before he had the chance.

“Your Grace?” she said, startled by the way he was lurking. A step back, deeper into the wardrobe. “What—what are you doing here?”

His eyes swept over her front, from her sumptuous breasts to her pouty lips, mind still caught on images of her?—

He gave his head a shake. “I was hoping we might talk for a moment.”

“Is that a request or a demand?” she shot back.

His jaw clenched, for already she was testing him. “Would it make a difference? From what I know of you, Miss Dowding, you do not take so well to demands.”

“A request then?”

“Yes…” A deep breath as he worked to calm himself and concentrate. “A request.”

She hesitated, her eyes flicking past him to the empty hallway and then about the room, seeming to realize the situation she was about to put herself in. Obviously, she too was aware of the danger of being alone with him, and a small part of Frederick hoped that she denied him… and if she did that, he might have it in him to accept said denial.

“Of course…” A resigned smile. “Please.” She indicated for him to enter the room.

Frederick hesitated, again only too aware of the fragility of being alone with her, but this conversation they were to have needed toremain private, and he could not afford to speak from across the room with the door open where he might be heard.

A final moment’s pause. A deep breath. A reminder to himself that control was what was needed here. And then, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“I wanted to…” The side of his mouth twitched. “… to make it clear that what occurred three days ago—there is no need to dwell on it. I said some things that may have gone too far, you said some things that certainly did, and I believe it would be best if we leave it at that.”

“Is that so?” she said plainly.

“It is,” he said with a nod of his head, looking past her rather than at her. “These past three days have been more tense than I had hoped, and for the sake of Isabella, it would behoove us to put them behind us and move on. Do you not think?”

She took in his statement, mulled it over, crossed her arms, and scoffed. “Is that your idea of an apology?”

His body stiffened. “I never said that it was.”

“No wonder, as it was perhaps the worst apology I have ever heard.”

“Again…” he spoke slowly and carefully, “it was not an apology. It was a statement of fact, for what happened between us was?—”

“Yes, yes,” she cut him off sharply which only worked to frustrate him. “I was there, remember? I know what happened.”

“Then you know an apology is not necessary.”

She snorted. “From you? I would not expect one.”

“Yet you are still upset.”

“I did not say that.”

His mouth twitched again, yet still he refrained from looking at her. “When I spoke with my daughter, I was under the impression that she had deliberately disobeyed me. Further to that point, I had assumed that you aided her.”

“Both of which were incorrect assumptions.”

“Which I had no way of knowing as you, Miss Dowding—and I will remind you of this—lied to me.”

“For the sake of your daughter.”

“A lie is still a lie,” he shot back. “And considering that, I think my actions were perfectly justified. I am sorry if I offended or upset you, but you gave me no cause not to.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “That was almost an apology. I suppose that I should take it.”

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