Madeline folded her arms tight across her chest. “Oh, I doubtthatvery much.”
He tilted his head to one side, his grin widening. It occurred to Madeline that he was enjoying himself very much.
“Ahh, of course. How could I forget—your poem! You despise all men, do you not? For their role in subjugating women and whatnot.”
“You are saying that men do not subjugate women?”
“And you despise them all equally, do you?”
“Oh, you are nonsensical, Your Grace. Tristan.” Madeline forced herself to take a step closer, just to prove that she was not afraid of his proximity. The trees swayed around them, rustling in the gentle breeze. A leaf detached itself from a branch and came floating down between them.
“I would ask,” Madeline continued, making herself catch his gaze and hold it, “that you do not talk about my poems, and certainly not about my recitation at the Devil’s clubhouse. Once we are married, my actions will reflect upon you, so you’d do well to keep my secrets.”
He chuckled, leaning down just a little. She caught a breath of his scent, a heady, spicy cologne that made her blink.
“Secrets, eh? Now thatisintriguing.”
She cursed herself for her choice of words. “I didn’t meansecrets.I just meant… well, I meant things that are my business, and nobody else’s.”
“Things?”
“Yes, things!”
He leaned back, fiddling with his cuffs. His sleeve slid back, revealing a few inches of muscular forearm. She noticed that the skin on his wrists was tanned and found herself wondering how he had come about that tan. Gentlemen wore long sleeves and jackets at all times. Did he everremove his shirtin public?
This thought sent a shocking pulse ofsomethingthrough her, curling in her chest and rippling downwards in a wave of heat. It was so new and unexpected that she sucked in a breath and took an involuntary step back.
“You must know,” the duke drawled, “that I can find out all of your secrets, proclivities, andthingsby the end of the day. You know that, don’t you?”
She flushed.
Thank heavens he’s so unpleasant; otherwise, I might actually worry that I was feeling attracted to him.
“My secrets are not very interesting,” she rallied, and turned to walk away. “I won’t stay here to be insulted.”
Quick as a flash, his arm shot out, long fingers curling around her wrist. The contact was so sudden and shocking that Madeline gave a faint squeak, allowing herself to be unceremoniously hauled back.
His grip was not tight. It did nothurt, but neither could she pull away. She stared down at his long fingers, willing her heart to stop beating in her throat.
“Unhand me,” Madeline managed at last, hoping she sounded as outraged as she felt.
“Is it a lover, I wonder?” Tristan murmured, almost thoughtful. “Do you have a lover, Madeline?”
Her gaze flew up to his, outraged green meeting a lazily curious amber-red.
“I do not,” she gasped, hardly able to credit the fact that he had evenasked. What cheek! “Doyou?”
He eyed her for a moment, as if deciding whether to respond.
“No,” he said at last. “Not anymore.”
Madeline stared up at him. He must be lying. Ofcourse,he was lying. Men like him had dozens, if not hundreds, of mistresses. Probably several at once.
Why would he lie? We aren’t going to have a proper marriage. We’ll never be anything beyond reluctant acquaintances. Perhaps one day we might be friends, although of course that doesn’t seem very likely at the moment.
“Do you believe me?” he asked after a moment of silence.
“Yes,” Madeline responded at last, a little surprised to hear the word coming from her own lips. “I think I do. I don’t mind what you do, of course, so long as you don’t embarrass me publicly.”
