Page 7 of Never Love a Duke

“How dare you,” she hissed into the darkness, her face burning with fury. “Simply because I’m a woman, you judge our actions differently.”

“Because you’re a woman, I would have thought you would have reacted differently.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You should understand exactly what it means. You know what you did that night.”

Too affronted to do more than reply with a startled gasp, she defaulted to her original purpose for visiting the library. “Give me my book and be on your way.”

The man vexed her beyond all recognition. It was as if he was speaking in circles around her and not directly with her. As if he were referring to an event other than the kiss. An event she knew nothing about. All the while holding his ground with admirable aplomb and a hint of vengeance, as if he were a defender of justice. Which couldn’t be. The man was a rake of the worst kind. The worst of it was that he didn’t have the decency to be charming about it.

No. He had to be hot and steamy. Brooding. Emitting a tempest of epic proportions that was nearly impossible to resist being swept up into. If only he wasn’t so manly. His presence threatened to consume her. His hands beckoned to lose themselves in her hair again. Or was she all mixed up? Was that her body summoning him? Her depleted reserves calling to his undeniable strength?

That didn’t make sense. She hated him for the way he had made her feel about herself. About love. About promises.

He was the one she wanted to forget, wasn’t he?

Chapter 5

“You should leave—”

“Sh!” His hand was to his own lips, but she could feel them on hers. Or was it that she wished she could feel them on hers?

“What?”

“Someone’s coming.”

“I don’t hear anything—”

And then in a flash of the candlelight flickering into darkness, his hand was on her mouth. And so was his body on her body. And she really couldn’t hear anything except his breath in her ear. And that awful pounding of her heart. Drat. That was especially loud and inconvenient. How much clearer did she need to be with it? The man had already once used a key to unlock her heart only to toss it to the ground and stomp on it. Could a heart really be such a foolish thing as to yearn to be unlocked again by the same cold touch?

“Don’t say a word.”

She didn’t. But mostly because she couldn’t. His entire body covered hers, protectively. Like a human shield. Like nothing like a rake. Like her brain was being scrambled. But all she could do was stare at him wide eyed as she listened intensely to hear anything beyond their exchange of breaths—oh, and the wild thumping of her disloyal heart.

Finally she heard them. Footsteps. Lightly padding toward the door. A creak. A squeak. A soft whisper. Then the door closing again. Whoever it was, wasn’t inside the room.

They were alone.

He was on top of her.

In all his strength.

All the strength she felt drained off. And for just one minute…it felt nice…to be taken care of. To have someone protect her. To use someone else’s strength.

It wouldn’t last, but she could give herself one minute. A monumental feat to admit it, but admit it she did. She was tired of being the strong one.

So she gripped his jacket in her tiny fists and held on.

It was when her forehead touched his chest that the dam broke. Not of tears. Just a flood of relief rushed through her. Because it felt as though she could inhale his strength. Find refuge under his protection. Just for a moment. And maybe, just maybe she could steal a pinch of his shield for future use. She was just so damn weary.

And he was a duke. If nothing else, he had ample to draw from. Coffers. Resources. Confidence.

Besides, what harm was one minute?

“Mirabelle?” His voice was as soft as she had ever heard it, and even though she’d only heard it on a few occasions, she knew this softness was reserved for rare occasions. She just knew it in her soul. Which only fractured her heart in the slightest, that she knew him this way.

“Mhmm…” She let her response get muffled into his fabric.