Page 60 of An Offer By the Beastly Duke

So he’d been watching for her?

“And now?”

His dark eyes held hers, trapping her. “Now you look distracted. Distracting. Not sensible in the least.”

Her pulse jumped. Around them, couples spun beneath the glittering chandeliers. Conversation blurred into background noise, but Penelope felt every inch of Malcolm’s attention fixed squarely upon her. The scent of him—sandalwood, leather, and just a hint of brandy—wrapped around her.

“You ought not stare at me so,” she said softly.

“Why?”

“People will notice.”

“They already do.”

His thumb shifted once against the fabric at her waist. A tiny movement that had a devastating effect. It rubbed a slow, deliberate circle against her spine.

Penelope looked away quickly, her throat dry. “You enjoy making me uncomfortable.”

“No,” Malcolm said quietly, his voice a low vibration she felt in her bones. “My only wish is to make you comfortable.”

Her breath caught. He lowered his head slightly, his breath brushing her temple.

“You have not looked at another man once since we began dancing.”

The words struck low in her stomach, heavy with possessiveness.

“Your Grace.”

“And I have thought of little else but you for two weeks.”

The room seemed suddenly too warm, the air thick. Penelope swallowed hard, looking back up at him. “You should not say such things.”

“Why?”

“Because they are dangerous.”

His gaze darkened, intense and raw. “Yes.”

The orchestra carried them through another turn. His hand tightened slightly at her waist when another couple drifted too close.

The protective movement was instinctive. Immediate. Penelope hated how much she noticed that. Hated how safe it made her feel.

“You are quiet now,” Malcolm said.

“You make it difficult to think.”

“That is honest, at least.”

She looked up at him then, intending to answer sharply, and forgot the words entirely.

Heavens, he is handsome.

Not polished like the gentlemen of the ton. Not elegant in the soft, practiced way society preferred. He looked dangerous, a predator in a ballroom. The scar across his jaw only made it worse.

“You are staring now,” he murmured.

Heat flooded her face. “You are intolerable.”