Page 61 of The Duchess Games

She jolted, biting down on a yelp. Callum leaned against the doorframe in his linen shirt and trousers, no coat and no cravat. He brought in the smell of the night: darkness, salt, green things. He wasn’t smiling, his eyebrows drawn down. He watched her darkly, closely. Every part of her sparked alive, despite her situation.

“What are you doing here, Caitriona?” he asked softly. His voice was a pleasant rumble, commanding and deep.

She swallowed, trying not to look as guilty as she felt. There was no use lying. He’d seen the ring in her fist. Her brain raced, trying to find a way to salvage this. “I…”

He moved forward, graceful and predatory, kicking the door shut behind him. Her mouth went dry. He invaded her space, cornering her against the shaving stand. He gripped her chin lightly but firmly, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Tell the truth, Cat.”

She bit her lower lip. His gaze dropped to her mouth, lifted again, flaring. He trailed his hand down her bare arm, soft as feathers. He forced her fingers open. “Why do you have my signet ring?”

She opened her mouth to lie, to tell him she had found it on the stairs and was only returning it. He’d never believe her.

A better lie then.

She sighed. “I was stealing it.”

There was a beat of silence and then simply: “Why?”

She closed her eyes briefly because she couldn’t stand the dark, gentle patience. Then she called herself twelve kinds of fool. She wasn’t just a woman. She was a smuggler. She forced a smile, apologetic but also one that invited him into the joke. “I was dared to.”

“Explain.” It was an order, not unkind, not even angry. But there was something simmering behind the calm. She didn’t blame him. And she didn’t fully understand why he hadn’t already thrown her clear off the property. Anything between them was surely not strong enough to withstand this kind of duplicity.

“You didn’t think the Duchess Games were a completely public affair, did you?” she asked.

“Is that why my gardener found my ring in the bushes?”

“There are games within games. And there are ladies here who will do anything to catch themselves a duke.”

“And you are one of them?”

She didn’t answer.

“No, you never were, were you?” he said, mostly to himself. She was torn between asking him to elaborate and wanting to get out of this situation immediately.

“You should lock your bedroom door,” she suggested. “We are not exactly above board.”

“I can see that,” he said. “And here I thought I had locked it.”

“These games are more serious than you think.”

“Are there rules?”

“Of course.” It was difficult not to get lost in his gaze. He was dangerous, a current just waiting to drag her under.

“And what happens if you break them?” he asked silkily. “Surely, there’s a punishment.”

She swallowed. She was losing the upper hand. She felt it in the way her skin tingled and the muscles in her thighs went loose, her breasts heavy. She gave him back his ring. “I’ll go. Right now.”

He pressed closer. He gripped the table on either side of her hips. “I don’t think so.”

“Your Grace.”

“We’re not done here. I believe I asked you about your punishment.”

“I don’t blame you for calling the magistrate,” she said, shakily because the wrong parts of her body were waking up. She was meant to be focused, careful. Not aroused. “But please, please don’t. My family would suffer, and they haven’t done anything wrong. They’re not to blame.” She’d never get the smuggling operation properly on its feet. What had made her think she could do this?

No. She could do this.

A right sight better than bloody Juro.