Page 32 of The Wolf Duke

“As unlikely as it is”—she rushed on, her face scrunching with her words—“it’s entirely possible I was trying to gain access to your chamber by climbing up the vines if that’s where they led to.”

“So…”

“It is possible that you are right. That I am here to ruin you. Or do something to you. But I do not ken what that thing is. It may very well be happenstance that I was walking by your castle and stumbled and hit my head.”

“People don’t just happen to walk by Wolfbridge, Sloane. They have to travel here. Travel here on purpose.”

“I have gathered that.” Her attention swung back to the fire, the tumbler going to her lips.

It wasn’t an admission of guilt.

No, something very different. An admission of being lost.

Lost with no guiding light as to what led her here. The constant spark in her blue eyes dimmed, sadness taking root. Sadness he didn’t want to see.

“My turn.”

Her look swung back to him.

“You were right. I never should have used Vicky like that—sending her in to question you.”

Sloane’s head snapped back, her blue eyes shocked. “I did not imagine you would consider my point on the matter.”

“Was I just to ignore your outrage on my niece’s behalf?” He cocked an eyebrow, looking at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip. “I’m not a stupid man, Sloane. I can recognize when I am wrong. And I will have to beg for your assistance in how I can ask forgiveness from her.”

An odd smile came to her face, the spark relighting in her eyes. “I don’t think you need to. She worships you. Have you not realized that? She doesn’t think there is anyone stronger or smarter than you. I fear for her when she goes to London one day and discovers men like you are few and far between.”

“Men like me?”

Her hand flittered in the air between them. “I mean as she sees you. Smart and strong and handsome.”

“You didn’t mention handsome before.”

“I didn’t? Surely—”

Without thought, he leaned forward across the expanse of the settee, his lips on hers cutting off her words.

Lips that were instantly responsive. Breath that quivered under the crush of him. Hell, she felt so good. So soft. So pliable.

His hand went to her neck, digging through her blond hair that hung free down her back and he found the base of her neck, his fingers teasing the bumps up along her spine. Her skin instantly prickled under his touch. Responsive to the slightest nudge of his fingertips.

Her lips parted under his and he pressed forth, his tongue slipping past the edge of her mouth, exploring the taste of her.

Warm honey and brandy.

And lust. She tasted like lust. Like she would draw him in and be the death of him.

His hand slipped up to cup the back of her head and he tilted it, deepening the kiss.

A soft purr rumbled from her throat and she pulled slightly away, breaking the kiss.

She was stopping this.

Stopping this before it went too far. He should let it be—but hell, every fiber of his being wanted to pull her back to him. Set her body next to his.

She heaved a breath as her eyes opened to him.

His hand went to her temple, his thumb running over the spot that had been a wicked lump days ago. “You can’t deny this. What this is between us.”

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