Curse Ridgely. He had left her mind a confused jumble yet again.
She tipped up her chin. “And I am in love with him.”
He scowled. “No, you are not. You’ve only just danced with him once.”
“Once was enough. I am sure his lordship would never dream of confiscating my books and making all my decisions for me,” she snapped, beyond vexed with him.
He was an overbearing rogue.
Whathadher father been thinking, leaving her at this man’s mercy?
“Is that what this is about?” Ridgely’s brows drew together, and suddenly, he moved.
Moved with such haste she hadn’t realized what he was about until it was too late, and he had successfully caged her at the hearth, one hand planted on either side of the mantel, his arms barring her from movement unless she slipped beneath them. But to do so would be a retreat. A sign of weakness when she could ill afford to allow any to show. This was a battle between herself and her guardian, after all. A battle of wills and wits.
And shewouldemerge the victor.
“I don’t know what you are speaking of,” she denied, attempting to maintain her calm.
And to avoid kissing him again at all costs.
His head dipped nearer to hers, that dark gaze threatening to swallow her whole with its intensity. “Were you baiting me by dancing with Mowbray and then agreeing to an assignation with him?”
Partially, and curse him for being so astute.
She made a sound of indignation. “Not everything is aboutyou, Ridgely.”
His lips quirked into a full smile, the effect of which settled in her belly and descended lower, to a far more wicked place. “It ought to be about me. I’m a bloody interesting chap, in case you’ve failed to notice.”
Oh, she had noticed. She had noticed a great many things about the duke. Including that the chest currently hidden beneath his crisp white-and-black eveningwear was nothing short of wondrous.
“Are you making an attempt at humor whilst you’ve locked me away in a room in the midst of a ball?” she demanded. “Lady Deering will soon take note of my absence, I have no doubt. We must return at once.”
“Don’t feign concern over propriety now, my dear. I’m afraid your little game is at an end. You can thank me later for coming to your rescue and saving you from the gaping maw of complete and utter folly.” He leaned into her, so near they were almost touching. “No.More.Causing.Trouble.Am I understood?”
She smiled up at him and blinked her lashes slowly, as she had seen one of the coquettish debutantes do to a suitor. “Morecausing trouble?”
He growled. “You heard me.”
Her smile deepened. “You could always send me back to Greycote Abbey. There is no trouble for me to find there.”
“Even if I wanted to, I could not send you there. I am obligated to follow your father’s wishes to the letter, and his wishes were clear. Greycote Abbey must be sold.”
Stalemate yet again.
She heaved a frustrated sigh. “And yet, no one is concerned withmywishes, whilst I stand here before you.”
“Iamconcerned with your wishes. As your guardian and a friend of your father’s, I must attend to both.”
The levity had fled his countenance now, but he remained motionless, keeping her neatly pinned by the fire, which was warming her back quite pleasantly. She felt languid and heavy all at once, his nearness and the flames enveloping her, desire pulsing to life between her thighs. The ache was most persistent. She pressed her legs together in an attempt to subdue it, but the action only served to make the longing worse.
“I’m in love with Mowbray,” she lied.
His expression hardened as he abruptly pushed away from the mantel. “No, you’re not. I can see there is only one way I’ll put this nonsense out of your mind.”
“Oh?” She moved away from the hearth, overheated and dizzied and knowing it had far more to do with Ridgely than the actual fire. “Pray, enlighten me, o ye wise and aged guardian.”
“Not so very aged,” he was quick to deny.
