He took another step forth, approaching her steadily, his eyes trained on hers. Arabella stood her ground, but her breath hitched, and the pulse on her neck picked up. Her lips slightly opened, and the Duke read her body correctly. She may have called him a monster, but she was not unaffected by him. She was not the only one in this room who remembered what happened in that carriage.
“And what punishment did you have in mind, Miss Arabella?”
“I would do anything to protect my family.”
“You do realize what you‘re offering?”
He rejoiced at seeing her so lost. Her cheeks went bright red, her chest flared, and the look in her eyes was something between fear and anticipation.
“So what should I do about you, Miss Arabella?”
“Like I said. Anything, if you are not to attack my family.”
“You‘re asking a lot from a ruthless monster Duke.”
“Name your price.”
The smile on his lips was genuine. He had yet to meet anyone who was exactly like Arabella. He took one deliberate step towards her. He was now closer, and his body craved to be closer even more.
“Fine, you‘ve caught me in a magnanimous mood. You shall be the one to bear the consequences of your own actions.”
“What is it that you want, Your Grace?”
“I will do what you ask of me. I will spare your family. Your father and your sister will be safe from me. But you will have to give me something in return.”
Arabella was shaking in the middle of his study. He could tell it was part nerves and part fear. He took one last step, close enough to make her nervous.
“Let me see,” He said, looking down at her, “What is it that you can offer me?”
He deliberately let his gaze travel. Slowly. Down the elegant slope of her throat. The rise and fall of her breath. The tremblingshe tried valiantly to suppress. Arabella did not retreat. That, more than anything, stirred something dark and electric inside him.
“You speak of punishment,” he said quietly. “Of consequences.”
He stepped closer, not touching her, but near enough that she could feel the heat of him.
“And you volunteer yourself,” he said lowly.
“If… If that is what is required,” she breathed out.
He circled her, like a predator onto his prey, merely observing. For now. She held her ground, though her pulse betrayed her. He could see it fluttering at her throat. He chuckled softly.
“Anything, Miss Arabella?” He dared her one last time.
“Name your price,” Arabella said impatiently.
“Very well,” he leaned close. “You will grant me three nights.”
CHAPTER 11
Terms Applied
Arabella heard the Duke with the utmost seriousness up to the point where he mentioned that she would have to share three nights with him.
Three nights. The words echoed in her mind, conjuring images she desperately tried to suppress. Him. Her. A bed. The way he had kissed her in the carriage. A flood of emotion rushed to overwhelm her like a match to oil.
Rage was there in the mix that he dared propose something so scandalous in the same way one discusses taxes. Then there was confusion. Why was he asking for three nights if they were going to be married anyway? Lastly, but not at all the least, there was heat. A treacherous warmth spread through her body, fanned by what the Duke was insinuating. With dread, she realized it was not recoiling from the suggestion. A fact that made her circle back to rage because he was responsible for this.
Was it because the shy part overwhelmed her? Was it because rage had made her blood boil? Was it something entirely different that had to do with her tingling body thinking of his lips on hers? The fact remained that Arabella knew she was blushing red. And the worst part was that, judging by the slow curve of his lips, the Duke knew too.
