Page 16 of The Duke's Hellion

“If that’s what you want, you should do it.” Perhaps it was an odd thing to say, but in the moment, Sam knew that nothing could convince him to sit at the table and drink tea talking about weddings, flowers, and love.

“You’ll see soon enough, Duke,” Mimi leaned in to say. “I always get what I want.”

Yes. That was the appropriate word for what was about to manifest. Terrifying.

Chapter Six

If tea wasterrifying, dinner was disastrous. It was one thing for Mimi to approach them and not so subtly vie for Roger’s attention; it was an entirely separate matter for her to waltz into dinner wearing that.

That.

Her dress was a crimson red pulling out the color of her lips, contrasting with the sky in her eyes. Her blonde tresses were loosely tucked at the back of her head looking as though they could fall free at any moment. The analogy was not lost on Sam. And…Sam almost spluttered when he saw them, her breasts…they were on display. He had to convince himself that what he was seeing was in fact not her areola.

But those mounds…those creamy white mounds…of a woman. This was not a child. This was a woman on a mission. Golden earrings framed her face and a small chain rested snuggly just above her decolletage. But that was the nice word for what Sam was witnessing.

Exactly as he had predicted, this woman was on a path to destruction. Her reputation was hanging in the balance. It would either go one way or the other. Society would accept this decision (this dress) as an anomaly, or they would crucify her. She had the eccentricity that might just lend well to the option of this night being an anomaly. She also had a brother-in-law who was a duke (thanks to Boudicca) and an impending duke for her second brother-in-law (thanks to Joan). It was unusual indeedfor sisters to all claim a duke, but Sam pushed that thought aside. Well, more accurately, that thought was pushed aside by Mimi’s flouncing breasts.

They were bouncing so lightly against the ridge of fabric that he was sure one of them was about to pop out and introduce herself.

Wouldn’t that be something? How would he respond? Shock would surely be his one and only response.

Then again…there was always a good handshake in response to an introduction. After all, he was a man, and those creamy mounds looked delectable. Not because they were hers…but just because, well, breasts. They were meant to be licked, nipped, sucked. His hands would itch to massage them, squeeze them gently to see her reaction—notherreaction, per se.

This was not going well. That dress needed to go. Then she’d be left dressless. Wait. The dress had to stay. She just needed to cover up—dammit.

“Your Grace,” Mimi drawled from Sam’s side, and despite the tone of her voice entwining itself with his breath, momentarily causing a lapse in what should have been an average inhalation, she was in fact not addressing him but Roger. With little heed paid to ceremonious seating arrangements, Mimi had been placed between Roger and Sam, while Chris and Nobi had been seated further away. Joan and James were so far down the table that they could hardly be seen, but they were probably enjoying that. They likely had plans to slip away at some point.

“Isn’t this a lovely house party?” Mimi’s unusually vapid question targeted Roger.

“Indeed,” came the curt reply. Vanic was no more interested in her questions than the extraneous utensils bordering his plate. And that was still less interest than he had paid the woman’s wardrobe, or, all out call for attention. That is to say, the man observed, appreciated, nothing.

Mimi reached for her glass and somehow managed to bump Roger’s arm in the process. “Apologies,” she whispered.

The man didn’t even look at her, just mumbled. “Not to worry.”

A fake trill of a giggle, like none that Sam had witnessed before (and prayed fervently he would never have to be present for again) escaped Mimi’s lips.

Sam couldn’t help himself. He cleared his throat and called for Mimi’s attention. “What are you doing exactly?” he hissed.

She kicked him under the table in reply.

“Ow! What was that for?”

Her head whipped around like a snake sensing its prey, but instead of a slithering tongue, she barely opened her mouth to grit out, “I’m having a conversation.” And then, because he assumed she couldn’t help herself, she added, “Unlikesomepeople.”

“A conversation?” He eyed her body up and down. “Is that what you call this?”

A quick nod and she turned her attention back to Roger. Otherwise known as The Wall. The Bland White Wall Lacking Typical Ducal Discourse. TBBWWLTDD for short. Sam snickered to himself.

“I do hope there will be some archery activities at this house party, don’t you?” Mimi pitched another question at Vanic.

Roger gave her a brief side eye and continued eating. “That would be nice.” Another spellbinding rejoinder from Roger.

“I do love the feel of a bow in my hand.”

Silence.

“To hit the target with such accuracy always gives me a sense of pride. Wouldn’t you agree?”

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