“Why? I thought I should meet my bride-to-be.”
She tried to tug her hand away, but he held her too tightly. “If you wished to humiliate me, you might have done so in a more private setting.”
“Humiliate you? I think you’ll find I’msavingyour reputation.” His smile turned wicked. “I have, after all, the power to destroy it.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Don’t try me. Now, for heaven’s sake, pretend you’re pleased to be dancing with me.” The hand on her waist tightened in warning. “I know that must be a trial for you.”
He was right. As long as he held her reputation in his hands, she was powerless to do anything to stop him. And so, she hitched up her smile and gazed up at him and allowed him to say whatever wicked, charming, mocking thing he chose.
After the dance came to an end, young ladies flocked to their side. Ladies more beautiful with better birth, unencumbered by debt and grief, all chattering like sparrows, spearing her with venomous glances, determined to find a way to get the Duke for themselves.
“Sucha surprise,” one such lady said, her eyes glittering. “I declare, when we danced at your ball, Your Grace, you made no mention of an engagement.”
“How could I,” the Duke said, apparently unfazed by this excess of attention that made Charlotte’s heart hammer, “when my sister was so soon to be married?”
“Shocking behavior,” another young lady said, tapping him on the arm with her fan. “Dancing with us, flirting with us, when you were betrothed to another.” She turned to Charlotte with a malevolent smile. “I wouldn’t stand for it, you know—such disrespect.”
Finally, Charlotte found her voice. “Considering we were not at that stage engaged, I had no claim over his behavior,” she said, her voice cool. “I would not presume to control a gentleman’s actions at any time, and particularly before we were promised to each other in any way.”
“Cousin Charlotte.” Sebastian waded his way through the congregating ladies. “Pray, allow me the honor of this next dance.”
Charlotte hesitated, glancing at the Duke. Shedidwant to abandon the Duke to his many ladies—all of whom would be better suited to him than her—but the prospect of dancing with Sebastian, whose color was high and whose hand trembled with rage—appealed even less.
The Duke rose to the silent plea in her gaze. “Sadly, she’s promised to me,” he said, “and I believe she requested a breath of air. Please excuse us.” Charlotte barely had time to gather her thoughts before the Duke cupped her elbow with his hand and led her through the crowd. She thought he would take her to the balcony which looked out over the street, but instead he led her from the ballroom into a large hallway. From there, he guided her into the library.
“Now,” he said, “we may talk.”
“Here? Alone?”
“I had not intended on there being an audience,” he said impatiently. “Finally, I understand your motives. You attempted to trap me into an engagement to escape the advances of your cousin.”
“I entrap you?” Charlotte lost her grip on her temper; its edges had frayed over the course of the night, and his erroneous conclusion had snapped it entirely. “As though I shouldeverwish to do such a thing.”
He smirked. “Forgive me saying, but as the impoverished daughter of a dead Earl, this would make an extremely fine match for you.”
“I shall not forgive you saying that.” She stamped her foot—actually stamped her foot. “I may be impoverished, but at least I have my reputation and my honor, something you forsook long ago. No matter how penniless, no matter how hard my cousin attempts to press me into marriage, I should not wish to be engaged to you.” Her bosom rose and fell as she took quick, sharp, angry breaths. With an excess of daring, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “I despise your lifestyle and your ways. Your own sister chose to run from you, and—”
He caught her chin, that same rage glinting in his eyes. “Watch your tongue,” he growled. “You will never say such things again.”
“I won’t, will I? Or what, you’ll break off the engagement?” She snorted, all too aware of the fingers around her chin, tight enough she couldn’t easily break free. This mimicked the way they had been in the garden shortly before he kissed her. A blush spread across her face, but she met his gaze defiantly. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, believe me, Lady Charlotte, I absolutely would.” His rage rendering the movement fast and hard, he crushed her mouth under his. A punishment—that’s what this was, a demand that she submit and yield and give herself over to him. Not a pleasant experience, but a power play; he was in control, and he was reminding her of that fact.
Her body responded before her mind did. While she had fully intended on pushing him away—biting him again felt like a good option—her body relaxed into him, opening her mouth. The kiss changed.
He released her chin, and his lips gentled, coaxing, not demanding, teasing, not forcing. At the practiced flick of his tongue, heat unfurled through her body like a flower, and she met his tongue with hers. A pleased sound erupted from his throat, and he stepped forward, pressing her against the bookcase. The sensation should have been uncomfortable, but she hardly noticed the shelves digging into her back, not when there was so much to occupy her directly in front. The hardness of his body, iron wrapped in wool, the heat of his fingers trailing down her neck to her collarbones, tracing lines she felt she should feel there forever.
He nipped her bottom lip, eliciting a shocked gasp from her, and against every instinct—against every sensible notion—she arched her back, her breasts pressing against his chest, his legs opening hers, something heated and rigid pressing against her stomach. It twitched against her, and she broke away from the kiss long enough to look down at it.
He grated a chuckle. “Better when sober,” he said, tilting her chin back up to him. “A conclusion I had long ago come to but couldn’t test until today.”
Shame filtered through the heated haze that had occupied her mind. “I don’t know what you suppose about me, Your Grace, but I have no intention of being your mistress, and—”
“Oh, I had at no point presumed you would.” He chuckled again and released her. Charlotte made a pointed effort not to look down at the rod that had been pressing against her just seconds before. “But now that we are a little better acquainted, we should discuss how to proceed.”
“There is no question of how we should proceed,” she said, unsure where the Duke’s rage had gone—whether somehow their kiss had swallowed it, and what she should do now. “We should end the engagement before it causes us any more embarrassment.”
