Page 57 of Never Dare a Duke
Her stare cooled. “I was going to say someone as exalted, but I meant in consequence. Of course you wouldn’t have taken it that way!”
She started to snatch the notebook, but he held it away from her.
“What else will I find in here?”
“You already know, I am sure, and simply want to torment me about it.” And then she really looked at him. “But you don’t know yet, do you. Did your silly pride and blue blood not permit you to read a woman’s private thoughts?”
He arched a brow but did not answer. He would have read it had he not been interrupted, and he didn’t feel one bit of guilt.
“I wanted you to teach me about men,” she said very slowly, with exaggerated patience. “Is this not more proof that I am telling you the truth? I have chosen you, after much deliberation. What other man could I trust to end our relationship when I wish it?”
“Chosen me? How far do you intend to carry this little game between us?”
A knock sounded on the door, and although he saw her stiffen, she did not look afraid, only proud and firm in her convictions.
Could everything he found so suspicious about her really lead back to a virgin’s deciding it was time to lose her innocence?
Did she really not understand the consequences? Or was she counting on the lust that had taken hold of his thoughts where she was concerned?
A woman’s voice called, “Your bath has arrived, miss.”
Here was the perfect opportunity to prove she was lying.
“Go ahead and bring in your bath,” he whispered. “If you want me to teach you, then this is the perfect opportunity, for what man can resist a naked woman in her bathing tub? And a woman who means to learn carnal secrets can have no virginal misgivings.”
Once again he stepped behind the draperies, knowing that his reputation was in her hands. If she revealed him to his servants, a new scandal would be created, and she would be ruined.
But he’d spent many years reading the faces of his opponents. No, she would not cause a scandal—because she wanted something from him, something that meant more to her than the seduction of a duke.
And she was willing to risk everything to achieve her goal.
When Christopher disappeared, Abigail stood frozen, knowing her careful plans were spiraling further out of control. How could she avoid offering herself to the duke after everything she’d implied?
And did she want to?
She called for the maid’s entrance, then stood back and watched a parade of footmen bring in a bathing tub and buckets of steaming water. After the maid finished unhooking her gown, Abigail claimed she had a headache and wished to be alone. Certainly she was giving herself a headache in panic that Christopher might sneeze and reveal himself. He would despise her for trapping him, even though he was the one taking the risk by being there.
As the footmen gathered their buckets, and the maid left towels and soap, Abigail could barely keep herself from looking at the window where Christopher hid. She had the wicked thought that if she were no longer a virgin, her father couldn’t force her into marriage, not without lying to the groom. And if she weren’t married, she could prove to her parents that she could support herself, once her article about the scandalous duke went to press.
But no, she would not give herself to a man, then betray him for the world to see. Even she wasn’t that desperate for a story. She would keep her wits about her.
When the servants were gone, she stood holding her gown up at her shoulders. Should she call for him?
But he stepped out from hiding and looked at her.
Shouldn’t it be dark instead of broad daylight? How could the duke—Christopher—stare at her as if night had come, and his disguise of goodness had fallen away?
She lifted her chin. “Just because I want you to teach me about a man’s kisses, and what a man expects, does not mean I intend to bathe in front of you, Your Grace.”
“I told you my name.” He walked slowly toward her, then around her. “What a shame. The maid already loosened your corset. And I was so looking forward to doing that.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to shudder with the heat that swirled inside her with his wicked words. “Stop taunting me. It makes me think I have made a terrible mistake in trusting you.”
“Trusting me?”
He laughed behind her, and she felt his warm breath on her neck.
“You do not trust me,” he said. “And I don’t trust you. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy one another.”
