Page 66 of Never Dare a Duke
“No, I—” She shut her mouth. How could she say that she was drawn to him, that she couldn’t help what she felt for him? He’d laugh in her face.
“Are you even innocent?”
She bit her lip, trying not to cry, trying to remember that she wanted to compete in a man’s world, and she had to accept the consequences of her actions. Christopher would have thrown Walton out but was treating her differently. Not just because she was a woman, but because she’d hurt him, betrayed him.
Whispering, blushing, she said, “I’ve never…been with a man.”
For a moment, he said nothing. He held her so hard against him that she could not miss the hardness of his arousal. Her wide eyes met his, and he pushed her away again.
“You’re leaving, right now,” he ground out, his look full of disdain.
Christopher was losing control of himself, of this argument—and he knew that Abigail recognized it. And now she knew how little he could control his own body where she was concerned.
He waited for her response. Surely she’d try to blackmail him by claiming she’d write lies about him; or she’d threaten to expose herself and whatever she’d already learned about him.
But she said nothing, only hugged herself with such a look of sad despair that he was taken aback. She didn’t cry, she didn’t beg. She waited for his sentence.
And then he realized that if he forced her to leave, he couldn’t control what she did—whom she saw. She could join forces with Walton against him; although even as he thought it, he knew she wouldn’t do that. She had wanted to accomplish this alone, to prove something to her father, and perhaps to herself.
He knew nothing about her except that he desired her, had thought her amusing and intelligent, and that she’d somehow given him back a feeling of being alive, even when he suspected her.
He couldn’t let her write her article and publish it. He had to know the truth about her, to find out what she really knew about him. He had to control her—and this terrible attraction to her that overcame all his good sense.
“No, you’re not leaving,” he finally told her.
Her eyes widened in shock, but she said nothing.
“You owe me. I want to know what you know. I could damn well hide you away where no one could find you, force you to write nothing about me, but that won’t help me stop Walton, and whatever he’s uncovering. No,you’regoing to help me stop him. And in exchange I won’t tell Lady Gwen—and everyone else—what you’ve been up to. For now. You do know that if I reveal you, everyone will assume your dearest friend was also involved.”
She inhaled sharply, and now he could see the fear in her eyes.
“No, please, she’s innocent. I used her, just as I used you. She thinks this is simply a lark, having me here. You know her and her family—she thinks she’s only proving that the social classes are equal.”
“I’ll try to remember that, whenever I feel like despising her for bringing you here.”
She hurried to say, “As for Mr. Walton…what can I possibly do? You heard him refuse to tell me what story he is working on. Why would he change his mind?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. It is your task to discover a way. When you’re ready to confront him, I’ll remain nearby, listening. You’re a woman wise in the ways of the world; figure out a way to accomplish this new assignment.”
He started to leave the little clearing, and she grabbed his coat sleeve.
“And if I can’t?” she cried.
With his eyes, he gave her the cold look he reserved for enemies. “You’ll wish you’d never come here.”
Somehow, Abigail managed to return to the picnic. For a moment, she met Mr. Walton’s cool gaze, but he only shrugged and turned his back to continue talking to Mr. Tilden. His look said that he considered this a contest between them, and he fully believed in his own ability to triumph. Well, at least he wasn’t going to reveal her deception, not right now. She would have to be very careful as she decided how to handle him.
It took everything in her to smile at Gwen, to speak with Elizabeth about her success at archery, to avoid even looking at the duke. Abigail pretended she was a normal woman enjoying a lovely day.
But she saw Christopher staring at her, and knew that he despised her even more for her ability to pretend that everything was all right.
How good a liar she was, he must be thinking. And how much he must want to keep her away from his family.
But he was the one using his threats to ensure that she remained here. And it was going to work; she couldn’t leave—wouldn’t. Regardless of how much she’d grown to hate what she was doing to him, she was trapped not only by his threats, but also by her need to help her father’s newspaper. How could she give up?
How she would accomplish these contradictory tasks, she didn’t know, but for the moment, she concentrated on getting through luncheon—and trying not to think how much Christopher despised her. He had no qualms with controlling her through fear, and though she deserved it, she could not help noticing how he always made sure he got what he wanted.
Yet inside her an ache burned. She didn’t want him to hate her. But how else had she expected their relationship to end?
