Page 4 of Claimed By the Duke of Ice

“Your Grace, I assure you I have no want or desire for a scandal for either one of us,” she replied, exasperated. “I don’t even know who you are, and being caught alone with any gentleman—especially now—would be simply dreadful, so I am just going to be on my way.”

As she went to move, the man stepped in front of her, his feet coming perilously close to the broken shards of the vase on the floor. She looked up at him slowly, her eyes moving from his stylish shoes, over his trousers, and up his strong torso. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, drawing attention to his strong jaw and cheekbones. His hair was unstylishly long, his brown locks falling almost to his shoulders. But his eyes, brilliantly green, like sunshine gleaming through leaves, made it impossible to notice the style faux pas for long.

Why do the handsome ones always have to be the worst? Grace thought randomly before he began to speak.

“You’re not going anywhere until we’ve sorted this out,” the man replied matter-of-factly, staring directly into her blue eyes. “What did you hear? What form of gossip are you planning to spread about me, hmm?”

As he asked, Grace noticed that he began to flex his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if trying to decide whether or not to use them. Concern began to lace through her, and she took another step back.

“Nothing that would require you to put your hands on me, Your Grace,” she replied defiantly. “And I warn you now that if you raise those fists to me, I shall claw your eyes out, no matter what talk comes out of it!”

The man looked at her, startled, then glanced down at his fists. As if realizing what he was doing, he sighed, shook them, and clasped them behind his back.

“I would never raise a fist to a woman,” he replied vehemently, “even to a gossipmonger like you, young lady. But I will protect my reputation.”

“That is all I am trying to do!” Grace exclaimed, growing exhausted with the exchange. “I’m trying to protect my reputation and yours, but I can only do that if you allow me to go.”

“Not until you tell me what you heard!” He quipped back.

“You know very well what I heard, so why keep asking me?” Grace replied with frustration. “If you say nothing regarding me, I shall say nothing regarding you. Trust me, Your Grace, the last person I want to be caught with is you. You were right earlier. Your manners are abhorrent. And I would not want to be tied to the likes of you for the rest of my life just because we accidentally sought refuge in the same room!”

“So, you were listening,” the man replied harshly.

“Not on purpose, I was stuck you—you…buffoon!” Grace groaned.

The anger in the man’s eyes transformed into shock. His massive shoulders released from his ears and slowly lowered into a normal stance. He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his thick hair as he looked at her. At that moment, without the fierce look of judgment in his eyes, Grace found him annoyingly attractive. She wondered, perhaps, what would have happened if they had met another way.

“So, you will not say anything about me?” he asked, his tone quieter, gentler.

Grace let out an exasperated breath as she shook her head.

“Trust, Your Grace, that even if I knew who you were, I have no interest in participating in rumors of any kind. I find them abhorrent and unkind. I want nothing to do with the talk of the Ton whatsoever.”

The man’s green eyes stayed focused on her face, and she knew he was looking her over, searching for any trace of a lie. It was only then that she noticed a sadness that lay behind the feral pools of green—a yearning of sorts, but for what, she did not know.

“Apologies, madam,” he said at last, his voice losing its edge as he shifted to a more relaxed stance. “I am…not myself in the city. I must admit that it makes me—well, it puts me a little on edge.”

“More so than usual, I assume,” Grace replied dryly. This drew a tiny smirk from the man’s lips, and he nodded subtly.

“Indeed,” he murmured. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Nathaniel Voss, Duke of Ninter.”

The name drew a blank, but Grace gave him a stiff curtsey. “I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace, but we both know that would not be truthful.”

Nathaniel smirked again, this time with a chuckle.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Leaving,” Grace replied matter-of-factly, making a move to step around him. As she did so, Nathaniel moved backward, the back of his foot catching the leg of the table. Grace gasped as she saw his back heading toward the pile of broken glass, and without thinking, she rushed toward him and attempted to catch him by the lapels of his jacket. The momentum of her movements kept her tumbling forward, however, and the two of them landed in a pile beside the broken glass.

CHAPTER THREE

If the fall hadn’t knocked the wind out of him, the touch of the young lady atop definitely did. It had all happened so fast. One minute, he was getting out of her way then next, he was on his arse with the woman he’d just been arguing with in his arms. For a moment, they froze, the young woman’s eyes wide with shock as she lay atop him. His hands, seemingly on their own accord, drifted from her waist to her face, his naked fingers grazing over the incredibly soft flesh of her jaw and cheek.

There was no cold numbness, no uncontrollable tremor in his hands like there always was, but instead, warmth and an unfamiliar tingling sensation made his entire body feel alive. Fascinated, Nathaniel’s fingertips trailed down her jawline, down to the elegant slope of her neck. He could feel her pulse, rapid and frenzied, beneath the pads of his fingers, and it called to him like a siren’s song.

“Impossible,” he whispered, his eyes roaming from her neck to her blue eyes once more. She was still looking down at him in shock, her breath coming in rapid, shallow movements through her plump lips. As if in a daze, Nathaniel leaned up, his grip still on the young lady’s throat, and touched his lips to hers.

Warmth and arousal swept through him as he kissed her, two sensations he wasn’t familiar with at all, and a small groan slipped from his lips as he deepened the kiss. At first, the young lady remained frigid against him, but as he drew his tongue curiously over her bottom lip, she let the softest sigh and relaxed into him. The added pressure only made these new, curious sensations intensify, and his hand slipped from her throat to her waist, so he could press her closer to him.

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