Page 57 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

"I am not."

"You are."

Margaret tried to suppress it. "I am amused by your extraordinary humility."

"You are amused because you enjoy arguing with me."

She looked directly into his eyes. "Perhaps I do."

Something shifted in his expression, and Margaret's heart gave an inconvenient leap.

She rose from her chair under the pretence of reaching for the wine, but Pierce stood at almost the same moment. They ended up facing one another beside the table, far closer than either had intended.

Margaret's breath caught when she realized just how tall he was, how easily he seemed to fill the space between them.

"You are doing it again," she murmured.

"Doing what?" he asked, his voice quieter now. "Standing too close."

Pierce's gaze moved briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes. "You could step away."

Margaret swallowed. "So could you."

Neither moved. The silence between them seemed louder than any conversation they had shared that evening. Margaret could feel the warmth of him, could smell the faint, clean scent of soap, and her pulse seemed determined to betray every sensible thought she possessed.

"You are very stubborn," he murmured.

"So are you."

"I am worse."

"I had noticed," she said.

His mouth curved slightly, and the sight nearly undid her. Margaret lifted her chin in defiance, though she was no longer certain whether she was challenging him or herself.

"If you are waiting for me to retreat, Your Grace, you shall be disappointed."

"I was not waiting," Pierce said, his eyes fixed upon hers. "I was wondering whether you would."

For one suspended moment, Margaret thought he might kiss her. She could almost feel the memory of their previous kiss returning, and every instinct urged her to close the tiny distance between them.

Instead, the servants entered with the second course. Pierce drew a slow breath and sat back down.

Margaret immediately missed the warmth.

"That," she said, forcing her voice to remain steady, "was probably sensible."

"Almost certainly," he replied.

She sat down and looked at him suspiciously. "You sound disappointed."

Pierce picked up his wineglass, his expression once again unreadable. "I did not say that."

"No," Margaret murmured, "You merely looked it."

For once, Pierce had no clever answer. And Margaret found that silence far more dangerous than any argument

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