Page 54 of Taken By the Duke of Stone

"What?" Patrick's words weren't all that clear to him, still too lost in contradicting thoughts.

The flash of red on the dance floor caught his eye and then he saw the man with his arm around her next.

"What in the-"

"That's more like it," his friend sounded amused. "I was beginning to wonder why you were so aloof about it."

The Duke's hands curled into fists at his side, and he badly wanted to hit something, preferably the face of the golden haired man.

Lavinia threw her head back and laughed and he wondered what the hell was so funny. The marquess didn't exactly look like he had a lot of humor beneath his too starched collar. He was a spineless git who stuck to his mother's skirts and he had no right to-

His thoughts came to a stumbling halt.

Did she plan to kiss that blackguard? Well, he wasn't going to sit back and watch her disappear into a dark corner with bloody Forsythe.

"I find myself suddenly terrified for Forsythe's life," Patrick chuckled behind him, "You might want to cool it, man."

What did she think she was doing? Victor thought darkly. Dancing and laughing with a man in public wasn't exactly the definition of being discreet. He was going to wring her goddamn neck.

As soon as the music ended, he began to march forward, ignoring Patrick's panicked warning for him to not do anything stupid.

"I will take it from here," he informed the man coldly as they moved towards Lady Hartfield and the marchioness.

"Your Grace?" Lavinia asked, "what are you-"

"Come with me, "he said impatiently and gave her his arm. He knew he was being rude, and by the way the other man's eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline, he realized he should attempt some civility, but dammit all to hell, he was this close to doing something insane and the sooner he left the ballroom, the better.

He marched the brown haired woman towards the French doors that led to a balcony, but at the last minute he made a turn and directed her into a dim hallway.

"Where are you taking me?" She sounded more curious than scared.

He pushed her into the first door he saw and locked the door behind them. The room turned out to be a library with the onlylight coming from the moonlight spilling in through the large line of windows at the back of the room.

"What do you think you're doing?"

She scoffed, arms folded over her chest, "I could ask you the same thing. You are the one who brought me here after all."

He stalked forward and her eyes went wide, some hint of wariness in them.

"Do not play dumb, Lavinia," he growled. "Tell me, did you plan on cornering the marquess into some dark corner and kissing him?"

"And if I did? Do not worry yourself, Your Grace. I planned to be very discreet about it," she thrust that pert chin in the air, looking as lofty as a queen.

"Did you now?" His voice was mild, but there was a storm brewing inside of him.

"Uh, yes?"

"And did you think he would be able to kiss you like I did?" He reached her, crowding her into the side of the table. "Tell me, Lavinia. Would he have made a suitable replacement?"

"P-perhaps," she gnawed on that abused lower lip, "I shall be all too willing to let you know if he passed muster. If that is all-"

He cupped her jaw with a close lipped smile, "You are the most vexatious woman I have ever met. The most stubborn and maddening."

"How sweet," she hissed.

"You don't want sweet, my lady."

"You don't know what I want," her words were small and shaky and he could see where her pulse fluttered at the base of her throat.

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