He’d brought her here to give her a book?A book.
With shaking hands, she opened the cover.
Minerva Press.
As she turned the title page, a slip of paper wafted to the floor. She crouched down and read his message.
My library holds untold fascinations. Should you wish to explore them, there’s a convenient passage from the third floor to the top balcony, rendering a late-night ramble through the house quite unnecessary. I will leave the second volume in the upper reading alcove at midnight if you wish to retrieve it.
Her heart sank, even as her pulse galloped.
Seduction, not humiliation, had been his real purpose—the reason Mrs. Small had been hired, the reason her sleeping arrangements had been altered.
He’d held her in his arms, and, for a glorious moment, she’d forgotten everything.
Hersituation.Hisstrategic gifts.
Just like Karl, he’d used her sympathy to create a false intimacy. Elation transformed into murky acid that swished dangerously around in her gut, threatening to make her ill.
And, like Karl, he meant to make her his mistress.
No wonder she’d been breathless—she’d just been lifted and swept across an entire chess board. Despite her plans, despite her reservations, the player had her in check.But checkmate?
Not yet.
She was older. Smarter. More confident of her worth. She sethimback into his place. She simply could not lose her head.
Or, God help her, her heart.
ChapterSeven
Alow fire sizzled, its faint glow joining the only other source of illumination in the library—Hurtheven’s oil lamp. Together, the two light sources barely pierced the gloom. The duke stared into the darkness from his vantage on the topmost balcony. Each time the flames crackled; another fissure ran through his taut nerves.
The stolen taste of her lingered on his lips. The embodied recollection of their embrace clung to him like a tantalizing scent. Instead of having satiated his need, he was restive, fitful and on edge.
But why should he feel as nervous as a boy in the clutches of his first infatuation? Surely, hemusthave secured her regard. But what if he had not?
Bloody hell.
Uncertainty was a novel and disturbing experience—a land he did not know and dared not dwell in for long. Heneverleft his fate solely in another’s hands. And yet, here he was, about to offer her all that he was when he was in no way convinced of her answer.
She’d softened—he reassured himself—opening to his kiss with the innate facility of a gracefully budding floret. Of course, she’d see the advantages of a match between them, however unlikely—and unequal—their pairing might seem to others.
He hadn’t meant to kiss her this afternoon—not before he’d made his intentions clear. But his infamous self-control failed when she was near.
When she was near, a current compelled him to connect to her the way magnetization forced a compass needle North, or a bolt of lightning found its inevitable way from cumulus cloud to earthly target.
Strange this impetus to tether his heart so firmly to another’s. Strange and unsettling. What recourse would he have if she refused?
Was offering her marriage at this early stage presumptuous? He didn’t even know her Christian name, for heaven’s sake. Would she think him mad?
A subtle shift in sensation, a heightened awareness, warned him of a change in the room.
“Mrs. Montrose.” He spoke without turning.
“Howdoyou do that?” She sounded wary. “How do you sense me before I have made my presence known?”
“The truth is...” He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa and folded one leg over the other—a posture at odds with his inner turmoil. “...I simplyknowwhenever you’re near.”
