Page 35 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

A knock sounded at the door.

Pierce looked up. "Enter."

His butler stepped inside and bowed. "Your Grace, I beg your pardon, but there is an unexpected lady visitor."

At this hour? Pierce's first thought was that one of his former mistresses had chosen an inconvenient moment to remember him. He had no patience for such interruptions tonight.

"A lady?" he asked, his brows drawing together. "Did she give her name?"

"She did, Your Grace. Lady Margaret Wilmore."

Pierce went still.

For one brief moment, an entirely different possibility occurred to him. Perhaps she had come to tell him that now Harrowby's claim had been destroyed, she no longer intended to marry him. He could hardly blame her if that was the case. In a world filled with people who avoided their duties whenever they became inconvenient, why should Margaret be different? He had expected resistance from her from the beginning, and perhaps this was merely the final act of rebellion.

"Send her in," he said.

The butler withdrew, and moments later Margaret entered the study. She wore a dark cloak over her dress, her hood pushed back to reveal dark hair and those striking eyes that always seemed to carry more fire than she realized. She looked determined, though there was a trace of uncertainty beneath it, and Pierce found himself staring longer than propriety permitted.

"We need to talk," she announced, closing the door behind her.

Pierce leaned back in his chair. "So I gather."

He remembered another night, another woman wearing a mask and walking boldly into a room full of gentlemen. She had asked for a kiss, declaring that the more scandalous it was, the better. He had thought her reckless then. Now, looking at Margaret standing in his study in the middle of the night, he realized that recklessness might simply be one of the qualities he found most difficult to resist. His gaze moved down her creamy neck to her décolletage where her plump breasts pressed against the low neckline of her dress.

Desire stirred within him. This moment had nothing to do with duty.

I want her. Right here. Right now on my desk.

The knowledge was inconveniently clear as he thought about hiking up her dress and getting between her thighs.

Pierce rose and crossed the room in order to distract himself, watching as Margaret's expression became slightly more guarded.

I know she believes me capable of being a villain. Perhaps I ought to make use of that reputation. If she already thinks me dangerous, there's little reason to disappoint her.

He moved behind her and whispered in ear, lingering above her shoulder. "Have you come to get yourself ruined again?" he asked, his voice deliberately low.

She gasped. "What?"

He moved to her other shoulder and continued. His voice thick with lust. "Perhaps you have decided that one threatened marriage was not enough."

Margaret's eyes widened. "I have not."

"Pity. I could ruin you quite efficiently, you know. And still marry you tomorrow," he said.

"Your Grace…" was all she could say. He watched as her chest heaved up and down as her breath grew.

He smirked and circled around her. He stood directly before her. "Is that why you've come? To sample the good before you commit to buying them?"

Before she could respond, he placed his hands lightly around her waist. Margaret inhaled sharply.

Pierce felt the reaction beneath his palms and had to summon considerable restraint. She was warm beneath the fabric of her dress, and the proximity between them made every sensible thought considerably more difficult. Her cheeks flushed, precisely as he had hoped they would.

"You are… you are being inappropriate," she whispered.

"I am? You shouldn’t at my door unchaperoned at this late hour. I am only reading the signs you are giving me, Lady Margaret."

"No. I did not mean to… that is… I," she fumbled her words. He gave her a gloating grin. "You are enjoying this," she narrowed her eyes at him.