Page 3 of The Duke's Goddess

“You were meant to.”

“It makes sense that you go next for the duke dare, Joan,” coming from Nobi, Joan really didn’t want to challenge her.

Yes. That. The dratted Duke Dare.

“Do you have anyone in mind?” Nobi asked hopefully. And Joan could read the room. The body language. Bodi: The expecting eyes. Nobi: The questioning eyes. Mimi: The challenging eyes.

Each sister was different, though they all got along. Each sister had their own unique talents and dreams. Bodi was well on her way. She was now about to start her girls academy for fencing. The gossip was still floating around, but Bodi had the support of at least four dukes (one being her soon-to-be-husband) that no one wanted to cross. More than that though, she had found love. And Joan was pretty sure Bodi had been the most skeptical of the four of them. Nobi was already in love. And Mimi was in love with being in love. And Joan…well, she was open. Just not as focused as Nobi. Or as driven as Mimi. Or as headstrong as Bodi.

“Well, do you?” Nobi asked again.

Right. The question. “No one in particular.”

“What about one of Wes’s friends? One of The Betting Buddies?”

Mimi raised her hand and smiled, “Chris is taken.”

Joan chuckled. “Well, there were four.” She held up her fingers. “Wes is taken.” One finger went down. “Chris is taken.” The second finger went down. “Samuel is far too competitive for me.” The third finger went down. “So that leaves James. The—”

“—Duke of Cornwell. He’s so handsome,” Mimi interjected. “Thick dark hair, laughing eyes.”

Yes, Mimi would say that. She was the first to point out the…manliness…of a man.

“He’s—” Joan tried again.

“—So tall.” Mimi’s eyes were dreamy.

“He’s a notorious—” Surely the third attempt would work in expressing her argument as to why she couldn’t seriously pursue James.

“—jokester. And yet he looks strong enough to sweep me off my feet.” Joan had to admit that the man could likely sweep any woman off her feet with a simple wink. He was dangerous, but knowing the danger was half the battle.

“Are we talking about me here or you, Mimi? Do you want to go after James?”

Mimi snapped out of whatever daze she had been in. “He’s not for me.”

“Really? Why not?”

Matter of factly, she said with a deadpan look, “He’s a rake. I thought you knew that already.”

“Yes. Well…” Exactly. There was no way that Joan, the quiet, calm, committed, and casually overlooked sister would have any interest in the reckless, daredevil of a womanizer who didn’t want to settle down. Ever. No interest whatsoever. Not an inkling’s worth. None.

Chapter 2

“Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.”—Joan of Arc

THE WIND WHIPPING THROUGH James's hair. The thundering hooves banging down on the open field. The strength of the horse underneath him.

This was what made James feel alive. The rush. The recklessness.

He was racing his friends. That is, if one could call the insurmountable lead he had on the three, a race. At this point, they had no chance. They knew it when he suggested a horse race. But as usual, they agreed to it anyway. James would be the clear winner, and Samuel and Wes would compete for second, which they considered first place since James always won and therefore didn’t count. Chris brought up the rear several strides behind.

Whenever James rode, which was frequent, he rode fast and hard. He couldn’t be caught dead on anything less than the fastest stallion.

James stole a quick glance over his shoulder. The race would be over in three…two…one. He slowed Indra with a gentle nudge and a slight gesture on the reins. He might ride hard and fast, but he was nothing if not subtle in how he led a horse.

“I won,” Wes shouted, while James had to hold back from jumping on that claim. It was futile to attempt to convince these two of his win.

“You did not,” Samuel protested. And he would have sounded petulant with that rejoiner if he hadn’t muttered it in a condescending tone. He raked his hair back with both hands, not even giving Wes a sideways glance.

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