Page 18 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"But there is something I must ask," she continued, her courage faltering only slightly. "Will I suffer the same fate as your previous wife?"

The change in him was immediate.

Pierce crossed the space between them so swiftly that Margaret instinctively stepped backwards. Her shoulders nearly touched the bookcase before his hand came down beside her, effectively trapping her without actually touching her. His face was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, and her heart began pounding with an entirely inconvenient intensity.

"Do not speak of matters you know nothing about," he warned, his voice low and dark.

Margaret swallowed, but she refused to retreat.

"I am trying to understand what I am agreeing to," she said. Her lips trembled.

"And I am telling you that you know nothing about my marriage." His words were sharp as a blade.

His gaze held hers, fierce and unwavering. Margaret could feel the tension between them like a drawn thread, and for one treacherous instant she remembered the masquerade again, his hand beneath her chin, his lips near her neck, the sensation of wanting him despite every sensible instinct she possessed.

She pushed the thought away. "I will never love you," she said.

Something flickered in his expression.

Margaret lifted her chin. "If this marriage takes place, our only true connection will be the child. I will care for him, and I will fulfil whatever duties are expected of a duchess, but I will not pretend this is a love match."

"I have not asked you to love me."

"Good." She placed a hand against his chest and gently but firmly pushed herself away from the bookcase. The contact was brief, yet she felt the solid warmth beneath his coat and immediately regretted noticing it. "Because the moment I suspect that I am losing my freedom, I shall do the only natural thing."

Pierce raised one dark brow. "And what is that?"

"Flee," she said.

He scowled at her.

Margaret gave him a pointed look. "You know I am capable of bold decisions. You witnessed that yourself the night we met."

"I remember," he said.

"Then do not expect a docile wife," she said.

"And do not expect an affectionate husband," he replied.

She studied him, uncertain whether she ought to be relieved or offended. Margaret's heart continued to beat far too quickly. She had expected a proposal. Instead, she had been offered a bargain involving a duke, a child, and a freedom she refused to surrender.

And somehow, impossibly, Margaret was beginning to think she might accept it.

It's him or Harrowby.

Margaret folded her arms and regarded him with narrowed eyes.

"You make marriage sound remarkably simple, Your Grace. A duchess here, a child there, and everyone goes home satisfied."

Pierce's expression remained perfectly composed, which only irritated her further. "I did not say it was simple," he replied. "It is practical."

Margaret gave a short laugh. "Of course. How romantic."

One corner of his mouth lifted. "I have never been accused of being romantic."

"That is fortunate," she said sweetly, "because I should hate to discover that beneath all this brooding there was a poet."

Pierce's eyes glinted with amusement. "And beneath all your defiance there is apparently a woman who attended a masquerade intending to disgrace herself before half of London."