Page 15 of The Duke Who Dared Me
She hated his control then.Was desperate for some sign of emotion.Instead, he was motionless, his face otherwise void of reaction.He was hiding away again.She hated that, too.
“You don’t get to say that to me, Ali.”
“Ido,” he bit out.“Because I’ve watched you throw yourself at half the bloodyton, looking for someone who doesn’t flinch when you speak your mind.Who doesn’t ask you to dim yourself down just to fit in with the rest of the debutantes.”
Suddenly, it was difficult to swallow.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” he dared, his eyes burning now.
She couldn’t because, somewhere deep down, she wanted someone—anyone—to see her.To really see her and stay.And up until now, that had always been Alistair.Like how he had seen to a new wardrobe for her debut.That was a detail she found out later from Marina one evening.Percy would never admit as much, and Alistair would never accept her gratitude.
Still, he had no right to be concerned with who was courting her, especially before their wager.
“You haven’t earned the privilege to pretend you care about me now.Not after years of endless teasing or treating me like a child, like an irritation.”
“I haven’t thought of you as a child in years,” he said sharply.“That’s the problem.”
Verity’s heart slammed against her ribcage.No, she hadn’t heard that correctly.He had always… she had always…
He was breathing hard now, eyes dark with something she couldn’t name.Not anger.Not quite.Before she could ask what, Alistair reached for her reins, grabbed the collar of her riding habit, and pressed his mouth against hers.
It wasn’t a soft kiss, or civilized, or careful, or anything resembling rational.It was heat and fury, years of frustration rushing forth.
Her mouth opened beneath his in a soft gasp, allowing his tongue to brush hers.She melted forward, leaning into his touch as his hand slid and twisted into her curls.Her fingers fisted the lapels of his coat before she could stop herself, afraid to let go in the madness of it all.
The horses shifted, snorting, their heads tossing, but neither of them pulled back.Not until breathlessness won out.Verity finally wrenched away, her lips swollen, her chest heaving, and her brain…absolutely useless.
He stared at her.
She stared back, her shoulders heaving as she struggled for air.And just as the world came back into view, she reached across and slapped him.Hard.
Verity gripped the reins and turned her horse, riding away as quickly as she could.
“Damn it, Verity,” he called out after her.
She winced, certain someone would hear him call out her name.It was bad enough they were always in the gossip rags since the scandal of the wager broke.
But now?
Her hand ached, and her heart drummed in her ears as she fought the urge to gallop home.That would draw too much attention, so instead, she maintained a ladylike trot, smiling and nodding to the others in the park, hoping her lips weren’t too red or her hair wasn't too mussed.
Verity was furious with him.Or she had been until he kissed her and ruined everything, including the certainty she could hate him forever.
* * *
Alistair didn’t move.
The echo of her slap rang loud in his ears.
He sat there, stunned, reins limp in his fingers, staring at the space where she’d been seconds ago.Her mare was already back on the gravel path in the park, the wind carrying the scent of orange blossom behind her like a bloody banner.
He scrubbed his hand down his face, searching through the ring of ancient elms for the navy flash of her riding habit.
What the hell had just happened?
The urge to kiss her had torn through him without warning.One moment, he'd been staring at her, furious and breathless from their argument, and the next, he’d reached for her reins, collar, anything to bring her closer.His gaze had caught on her mouth, soft and slightly parted as she struggled for words, and something inside him had simply snapped.
When did her mouth become so distracting?
