Page 10 of The Wolf Duke's Wife
The duke opened a small door at the back of an alcove. Lady Martha’s footsteps thudded closer, her voice slicing through the air.
“Lady Christine, I know you are here! I will make sure your face is never seen again in polite society!”
Christine’s pulse thundered. Without another thought, she followed the Wolf Duke into the shadows.
Four
Tristan held Christine’s elbow firmly as he guided her down yet another silent corridor. He was acutely aware of her fragile slenderness. Never had he felt more aware of a female form. Her perfume assaulted his awareness. Light, floral with a hint of citrus. Feminine.
He resisted the urge to inhale deeply, not wanting to show how much he was savoring her. The feel of her skin beneath his fingers became the primary sense of his body. She felt perfect with skin that made satin feel like hessian.
“Are we to march through every chamber in this house, Your Grace?” she asked tartly, tugging at her cloak.
He cut her a sidelong glance. “Until I’m satisfied, you’re safely beyond that woman’s talons, yes. You may thank me later.”
“I don’t recall asking you to rescue me.”
“No,” he agreed, pushing open a door and ushering her through, “but you ran when I told you to, and now you are safe from her. I call that a rescue.”
Does she agree with anything without arguing about it first?
Tristan wondered for the hundredth time why he was embarking on this escapade. It seemed to serve no immediate purpose other than to risk scandal. Not that he cared particularly about his name. He was well aware of how darkly others spoke of him.
A man refuses to let others dictate how he should behave, and he becomes the greatest danger to civilization since Attila the Hun.
Dark words were perfectly suitable for him. But not for this woman’s blazing beauty. She had been a beacon, outshining all other women in that hall. Tristan had been unable to take his eyes from her, berating himself the entire time for allowing the distraction. When he had then witnessed her being assaulted, his interest had been piqued even further.
Except now I know who she is. Providential. She is exactly what I need.
The room they eventually stopped in was a small, intimate, shuttered drawing room, with a pair of French doors opening onto a long stretch of lawn. The immaculate grass was silver in the moonlight. Tristan gestured toward them.
“Should she sniff you out, there’s your escape route. I doubt any woman here could cross that lawn quickly in the gowns they insist on wearing. Yours is far more practical.”
Christine bristled. “Are you an expert on fashion?” she asked.
“Hardly. I intended my comment as a compliment. I cannot abide frippery.”
Tristan strode to the hearth and crouched to strike a flame, coaxing warmth into the grate. The fire caught quickly, casting a restless glow against the walls. Behind him, Christine lowered herself onto the sofa with exaggerated composure. He heard her shift, once, twice. And though he kept his back turned, Tristan felt her gaze trailing him, burning against his shoulders.
I feel naked. Damnation, but no other damned woman has ever made him feel so. I must get a grip on myself.
He picked up a book from the table, studied the spine without interest, and replaced it. His pulse was irritatingly uneven and had been from the moment she had blundered into him. She seemed confident, sharp-tongued, and stubborn. Irresistible and insufferable at once. And no, she was a Davidson. Sister to Charles Davidson, the debtor and fraudster.
“You needn’t prowl like a wolf in a cage,” she said, breaking his reverie, “sit, if you must linger.”
He turned. “Forgive me if I prefer to keep my distance. I’m told I have fangs and claws, after all.”
Her lips twitched into a smile. To his amazement, he found himself returning the smile. Briefly. Even a smile that lasted the duration of a second radiated from her face like a sunrise. It elevated a beautiful countenance to something approaching the divine. She glowed.
Dimples. Damn her.
He leaned against the mantle.
“This is rather a ludicrous situation, isn’t it?” he said.
“Running away and hiding? I should say so,” Christine said.
There was a moment of silence, and then both laughed. It was spontaneous and connected them for a moment, laying aside barriers.
