Page 34 of A Widow for the Beastly Duke

CHAPTER11

“Make sure of it?”

Victor felt the words escape his lips, his voice dropping to a low growl that mirrored the storm of very passionate emotions her declaration had stirred within him.

The Dowager Countess stood her ground, her chin held high in defiance, even as that delectable flush of indignation spotted her cheeks. The vibrant hue only enhanced her natural beauty, making it all the more challenging for him to keep the distance that propriety dictated.

So he took a step closer, intentionally encroaching on her space, curious to see if she would back down.

She didn’t.

“What exactly do you think you can do, My Lady?”

He was genuinely curious about this woman, who seemed to think she could threaten him on his own property.

The question lingered in the air, seemingly about her son, but Victor sensed that something deeper was unfolding between them—a tension that had little to do with her son and everything to do with her ragged breaths and dilated pupils.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect him,” she declared, her voice steady despite the rapid pulse visible at the delicate hollow of her throat.

Victor’s gaze was drawn to that pulse point, captivated by the evidence of her heightened state. The damp fabric of his shirt did nothing to quell the heat rising within him. For weeks now, he had been grappling with an inconvenient and entirely inappropriate awareness of Lady Cuthbert.

This stubborn widow, with her fierce protective instincts and flashing eyes, had invaded far too many of his thoughts, despite his best efforts to put her out of his mind. And now, here she was, invading his private space once more, color high in her cheeks and challenge in her gaze, demanding things of him as if she had every right to do so.

The sheer audacity of it all pushed him past the careful boundaries he usually kept when around others.

And that Beast—the one the ton spoke of in hushed whispers—began to stir in the depths of his mind.

“You think to intimidate me? What was it? Ah, you will do whatever it takes?” he echoed, noticing how her eyes widened just a bit at his tone. “How determined of you, Lady Cuthbert. But have you thought about how little your demands matter here?”

His hand moved almost instinctively, capturing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face up so she couldn’t look away from him.

The moment their skin touched sent a jolt through him; her warmth and softness contrasted sharply with his rough fingers, making him acutely aware of how inappropriate their situation was.

“You think you can control everything around here, don’t you?” The words rolled out in a low rumble meant just for her ears, even though no one else was around. “Let me share a little secret with you, little kitten. I’m the one in charge. And you’re going to find that out, whether you like it or not.”

He felt her sharp intake of breath more than heard it, and noticed her eyes widen for a moment before they darkened with something that was definitely not fear.

And he felt a rush of desire that was almost painful. So much so that he moved without a second thought.

His hands found their way to her waist, the delicate curve fitting perfectly in his grasp as he pulled her closer, closing the gap between them.

“Your Grace—” she started, but whatever she was about to say was lost as Victor finally gave in to the urge that had been building and building since she first appeared at the lake’s edge.

His mouth found hers with a hunger that took him by surprise, all his control crumbling in the face of this unexpected, unwanted, and utterlyirresistibleattraction.

The instant their lips touched, everything shifted into an urge far too perilous.

She tasted like morning tea mixed with an essence that captured her so perfectly—a sweetness that beckoned to him like a siren’s call.

“I want you,” he murmured against her mouth, his breath coming hard and fast.

As if his absentminded words somehow undid her, her lips, initially rigid with surprise, melted against his in a surrender that sent a rush of primal satisfaction through him.

Victor deepened the kiss, one hand moving from her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer, while the other cradled the nape of her neck, his fingers weaving through the soft strands of hair that had escaped her coiffure.

For a fleeting moment, she stayed frozen in his embrace, and he braced himself for the slap—he had crossed the line now, after all.

But then, with a soft sound that could have been either surrender or revelation, Lady Cuthbert’s defenses crumbled.

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