Page 37 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

It has apparently never occurred to her that, now Harrowby's contract has been destroyed, she could simply walk away from me and reclaim her freedom. Most women would seize such an opportunity, particularly when the alternative is marrying a stranger as intimidating as myself, yet Margaret has come to Ravenfield in the middle of the night because she has decided she ought to meet the child who would soon become hers.

It was a remarkable gesture, and for one dangerous moment Pierce felt the inclination to lower his guard.

He crushed it almost immediately.

People reveal their true colors with time, and I have learned that lesson too thoroughly to forget it simply because a spirited woman with dark eyes has touched my heart for one second.

"Very well," he said, moving towards the door and gesturing for her to follow. "Come along, Goddess."

Margaret fell into step beside him as they proceeded through the quiet corridors of Ravenfield House, and Pierce became acutely aware of the soft sound of her footsteps behind him. The house was silent at that hour, the servants having retired to their quarters, while the lamps cast warm pools of light across the dark Georgian panelling.

He glanced back and found Margaret examining her surroundings with undisguised curiosity.

"Are you disappointed?" he asked, slowing his pace.

"About what?" she asked, looking at him.

"I had assumed a woman who arrived at a gentleman's house after midnight might be expecting something more exciting." His tone was deliberately provocative, and he was rewarded when her lips twitched.

"You seem terribly concerned with what I expect from you," Margaret replied.

"I prefer to know what my future wife expects."

"You have not married me yet," she said.

"Tomorrow."

She gave him a suspicious look. "You sound entirely too pleased about that."

"I am not certain whether pleased is the word."

"Liar," she said, and Pierce laughed quietly.

"You are very confident," he observed. "No one talks to me like that save my close friend, and he barely survives each time."

"I have discovered that confidence is useful when speaking to arrogant dukes."

Pierce glanced over his shoulder, amusement darkening his expression. "Careful."

"Or what?" she challenged.

He stopped so abruptly that Margaret nearly walked into him. For a moment they stood far too close, her eyes lifting to his, and Pierce could see the challenge there, but beneath it lay something softer that tempted him to step closer still. The tension between them was becoming familiar, and that familiarity was dangerous.

"Or," he said quietly, "you may discover that I am not nearly as patient as you believe."

Margaret held his gaze for another heartbeat before stepping around him. "Then perhaps you should learn to be more patient."

Pierce watched her continue towards the nursery and shook his head, fighting a smile. She was going to be trouble.

When they entered Hugh's nursery, the fire had burned low, leaving the room warm and dim. Hugh was asleep in his crib, one tiny fist curled beside his cheek, and Pierce instinctively lowered his voice as he said, "Sleeping is the only time Hugh is not crying."

Margaret looked at him over her shoulder. "You make fatherhood sound terribly inviting."

"It is an exhausting enterprise."

"Perhaps he cries because you look so severe."

Pierce gave her a flat stare. "He is one year old."