Her eyes flashed. “I tried! You stepped into the room like a… like a wall!”
His brows rose. “I am compared to masonry now?”
“A particularly obstructive piece of masonry,” she snapped.
He almost laughed. Almost.
“And you,” she continued, as her cheeks blazed hotter by the second, “have no right, none at all, mind you, to imply I came here for any purpose other than preventing trouble.” She crossed her arms with impressive indignation. “I do not make a habit of sneaking into men’s bedrooms.”
“I imagine not,” Greyson drawled. “You do not seem the type.”
She hesitated. “Well… thank you. I think.”
He stepped closer again, compelled by some instinct he did not care to name. “And yet here you are.”
Her breath hitched. “Temporarily.”
“Mhm.”
“Against my will.”
“Of course.”
“And only because you blocked the doorway.”
“Entirely my fault,” he agreed, not in the least repentant.
She glared at him, with her lips pressed into a pert line that only made him more curious.
His voice lowered. “Tell me, then, who was it you were saving me from?”
Her eyes darted to the door, then back to him. “Two very foolish girls.”
“Foolish enough to trespass in a duke’s chambers,” he mused, “but wise enough to flee before returning owners appear. How efficient.”
She bristled. Then, she drew herself up with a steadiness that did not match the furiously mesmerizing color in her cheeks.
“What I did was wrong,” she said at last. “I know that. I should not have been here. I acted foolishly and put myself in a compromising position.” Her chin lifted. “But I have had quite enough of this nonsense, Your Grace. I wish to return to the party.”
Greyson tilted his head. “Why?” His voice dripped with quiet amusement. “This is far more interesting.”
Her eyes flashed so fiercely he very nearly laughed outright.
“This is notinteresting,” she snapped. “This is mortifying. And entirely inappropriate. And I have endured more than enough embarrassment for one evening, thank you very much.”
Greyson focused on the pulse at her throat, beating fast.
“You may be the Duke of Callbury,” she continued, meeting his gaze without flinching, “and you may be accustomed to getting your way with everyone. You may intimidate half the room when you walk into it.”
A bold statement, and entirely accurate.
“But I,” she assured him, “will not cower. Not because of your title. Not because of your temper. And certainly not because you seem to enjoy cornering people with your questions.”
Greyson’s eyebrows rose. “You talk of leaving, yet you keep staying.”
She ignored the jab entirely.
“I entered your room,” she said firmly. “That is my fault, and I offer my full apology. You deserve that much. But I will not stand here and be teased when I am trying to correct my own mistake.” She stepped past him and actually brushed his shoulder, almost as if in an effort to prove he had no effect on her by words or touch. A pity he couldn’t entirely say the same for himself.
