Page 9 of If the Duke Dares
“I would, thank you. Why don’t you tell me what qualities you hope your potential bride will possess?”
Filling her glass, he refilled his own while he had the bottle. “My father always said the perfect wife would be clever, well-spoken, dutiful, and, above all, beautiful.”
She put her hand around the wineglass, her fingers stroking the stem. It was most distracting. In a thoroughly erotic way. Was she doing that on purpose? “What an interesting list. Which of those are most important to you?”
“Er—” His mind was arresting on the movement of her fingers. He nearly said, “Sexual prowess,” but that was not something he’d mentioned. It was also not something he ought to say to someone he’d just met who wasn’t an employee of the Rogue’s Den. “I don’t think I would enjoy being married to someone who wasn’t clever.”
She licked her lips, and now he had to think she was arousing him on purpose. She’d been a widow for a year. It was not unrealistic for him to think she might be interested in the same thing he was—a night to remember.
“You’re not eating,” she said. “Are you finished?”
“I might be. But please don’t leave.”
“How can I when you’ve just refilled my glass?” She held up her wine and took a sip, her lips curving into the barest of smiles.
She did seem interested. Acton’s pulse picked up more speed as a heady desire rushed through him.
Setting her glass on the table, she looked over at him, her dark lashes framing her sultry gaze. Acton was fast becoming enchanted.
“I think I’m finished with my dinner,” he said. His throat had gone dry as his body hummed with anticipation. “I’d like to see what dessert will be.”
Her lips parted. “What do you desire?”
He leaned toward her, breathless with want, “You. Draped across this table like a feast. Or upstairs in my bed, your limbs tangled with mine.” Apparently, he’d thrown caution completely away. More accurately, it had been demolished by his raging lust for this enticing woman.
Her nostrils flared as she inhaled quickly. “What lurid suggestions.”
Damn, had he gone too far? He typically said such things to his lovers, and they liked it. And she was a widow, not some green girl. Like the woman he would consider marrying.
Do not think of her right now.
“I hope I didn’t offend you. I find myself utterly captivated.” He found himself pushing his dishes aside and leaning over the table toward her. “I should like to kiss you.”
“I’m sure you would. However, I am not so easily seduced.” She moved quickly, plucking up her wineglass once more. Before he could ascertain what she was about, his face and chest were dripping with Madeira. Blinking, he saw that she’d tossed the contents of her glass on him.
He sputtered. “What the devil?”
“The devil indeed,” she spat, rising. “You think you can smile at me and charm your way under my skirts? And because you’re a duke, you think you can get away with it. Not with me, you can’t. In fact, you shouldn’t try it with anyone. Preying on a solitary widow… Have you no shame? Men like you are a menace to women everywhere.”
With a final snarl, her tempting lips twisting, she strode to the door and departed the dining room.
Acton stared after her, wondering what in the hell had happened. He’d clearly misread that entire situation.
But she’d stroked the stem of the wineglass and licked her lips! She’d looked at him provocatively and asked him what he desired. She’d done everything but invite him upstairs.
Or so it seemed.
He frowned, irritated with himself and hating that he’d offended her so deeply without even realizing it. She’d been glorious in her anger, though. It was a shame he’d never see her again, for he was somehow still as entranced as he’d been before she’d doused him with wine.
As he used his napkin to wipe his face, he conjured the things she’d said, thinking they’d be forever emblazoned on his brain. Then he froze.
How had she known he was a duke?
Chapter4
Persephone carried her small valise downstairs early the following morning. As with the day before, she was leaving before dawn even broke over the horizon.
Yesterday, however, she’d been fleeing from her parents. She’d traveled with them to Cirencester, where they’d stayed the night. Over dinner, she’d had to listen to the baroness instruct her on how she might entrap the duke into marriage—should that become necessary. Even if the duke hadn’t been an utter rogue, her mother’s machinations disgusted Persephone. She would do anything to ensure Persephone married this man, regardless of Persephone’s wishes. Distraught, Persephone had determined she couldn’t continue with them to Loxley Court.
