Page 8 of The Duke Meets His Match

“Challenged, yes. Defeated, never.” He took her empty glass from her and set it aside on an end table, then brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Still, I admire your spirit. You must know you’re a beautiful woman, and I suspect you are accustomed to using everything to your advantage.”

She gasped at his touch, and her awareness of him heightened. Her thoughts spun at his smoldering gaze. He thought her beautiful? She knew her fair looks and blue eyes attracted men, but to hear it from him made her shiver.

“You’re blushing, Miss Somerton.”

She touched her heated cheek, and her lips parted with a scathing retort, but he raised his hand before she could speak.

“But it’s not your looks that draw my attention,” he said. “It’s rare to find someone who isn’t intimidated by me, either as a duke or as a military man. You are a rare exception.”

Trapped by the intensity of his stare as much as by his words, her heart stuttered in her chest. “Forgive me if I find your words not as complimentary as you think they should be.”

His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “Exactly my point. You have spirit, and I like a challenge.”

What on earth was he saying? She nervously nibbled her bottom lip, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. She felt an undeniable tug of attraction.

Ridiculous. She hated the man.

“How much will it take, then?” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“How much? Five hundred pounds…a thousand? I’m a wealthy man. Name your price.”

She sucked in a breath as realization struck. “You think to pay me to stay away from Henry?”

“You are an astute woman,” he drawled.

“You’re jesting.”

“I never jest.”

She rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts. He immediately stood. “I shall see myself out,” she said.

She turned, but his hand snaked out to grasp her wrist. “Not yet.”

Her eyes widened at the contact. His hands were calloused, his tapered fingers firm. A warrior’s hands. She experienced a shiver of apprehension and, heaven help her, excitement, from the leashed strength in him, the mysterious depth of his eyes, and the warmth of his skin.

“Sit,” he said. “We have not finished our business.”

Chapter Three

The touch of Michael’s fingers on the slender bones of Chloe’s wrist sent a jolt of lust to his brain. Her breathing was rapid, and her breasts rose and fell temptingly against the neckline of her gown. Her full lips parted, and he knew she felt the undeniable attraction as well.

Chloe yanked her wrist away, and he reluctantly released her. “I don’t want your money or anything you have to offer,” she said coolly. “As you’ve already observed, I’m not like most women.”

No, she wasn’t. She was infinitely more interesting.

He sipped his whisky, savoring the expensive alcohol as much as the woman seated across from him. Despite what he’d said earlier, he was surprised by Chloe Somerton’s unchaperoned, late-night visit. He was rarely surprised by people’s behavior. One of the things he’d learned as a military officer was to study the patterns of his enemies and attempt to predict their next move. He’d become good at it, and other officers looked to him for strategy and planning. People were no different. Until Chloe Somerton had reappeared.

She was unpredictable.

He tamped down his desire. He needed to have his wits about him. He could not allow Chloe Somerton, no matter how attractive, to distract him from his purpose. He owed a debt of honor that he intended to uphold.

Her fingers twisted in her lap. “Your attempts at bribery are for naught. I won’t hurt Henry.”

“You are a thief and a liar. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say.”

Her blue eyes sparked with fury. “Do you want to know what I think?”