Page 86 of An Unwanted Spinster for the Duke
At that, something dark flickered in his expression.
“No. It’s you he’ll linger near. Something about you will keep him returning,” he said, his voice low. “Idon’t like it.”
“And yet you’renotjealous?” she teased, trying to ease the tension between them.
Sometimes she felt thathewas the frightened one and she had to step carefully, lest he retreat again.
“I am not jealous,” he growled.
But then he stood up abruptly, breaking the fragile moment. He paced the room, his hands on his hips, his head bowed.
“I don’t trust him,” he repeated. “And I have reason not to. I want you to believe me when I say that. I don’t like him being near you—using his charm on you.”
“Dominic,” she said firmly, “we may not have married for love, but I have honor. I agreed to this arrangement. I won’t betray it. I won’t betrayyou, no matter how flimsy the vows may seem to you.”
Her voice was quiet but charged. Shemeantwhat she had said. Her father had never taught her honor—he had taught her fear and manipulation. But she’d carved out her own values in defiance of him.
Dominic didn’t answer, but something in his posture changed. His jaw relaxed. His eyes, when he finally looked at her, had softened.
And still, he left the room.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You’re holding me as if you mean to claim me. Right here. In front of everyone,” Marianne murmured, her lips barely grazing Dominic’s ear as they glided through the dance.
Her head hovered near his shoulder, dangerously close to resting there. Her breath was unsteady. Her heart was pounding.
A grand ball was all Marianne and Dominic needed to add to the tension.
The Duke of Wessex’s grand ball was well-known for being extravagant. Everything seemed to shine as people danced enthusiastically, whether they had a talent for it or not.
Dominic’s hand flexed subtly at her waist. “Is that what you think, little doe? I thought I already had,” he murmured, his voice low and rough.
“You know I’m not a prize to be displayed,” she replied, her tone more warning than flirtation.
His gaze never left hers. “No. Never that. You’re the most elusive prey I’ve ever chased. A storm. A myth. And still, I run after you.”
“Chased?” she echoed. Her smile was brittle. “Forgive me, but men who chase don’t usually vanish mid-hunt.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Do you want me to pursue you while you tend your cat and goat? I know when I’m not wanted, Marianne. I’ll always be there—but only if you want me.”
“So you don’t force maidens to give you heirs?” she asked lightly, but her voice faltered.
Her cheeks flared pink the moment the question left her lips.
“I told you. I don’t,” he said. There was an intimate note in his voice that warmed her ears. “And now you understand why. I’m a hunter, yes, but only to a certain point. I want my woman to come willingly.”
“Mmm. And you wouldn’t want her to go willingly to someone else, would you?” she asked, playing with fire. She knew it. And still, she watched him burn.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. The swirl of the final steps, the tightening of his grip, the set of his jaw—those said enough.
It was at that inconvenient moment that Lord Darfield appeared, grinning like the devil, a glass of brandy in hand.
“Well done! You didn’t even step on her hem,” he praised. “Olivia and I must work harder.”
“Go away,” Dominic said darkly, not even bothering to mask his glare.
Unbothered, Lord Darfield merely laughed as his wife approached with Elizabeth.
