Page 33 of His Duchess' Mischief

She could hear him following her and was determined not to fall, but it was difficult to find purchase on the slippery moss, and she stumbled several times.

Every time she did, his hand found her waist. By the time she reached the top of the hill, she was flustered, a dark heat forming that she had come to know well. His body was only inches from hers as she made it to the last tree, clutching at the branches and pulling herself up.

The trees thinned out ahead, the ground more even, and she pushed her hair out of her face, walking as quickly as she could toward the manor.

What will the servants think when they see me in this state?

“Alicia.”

To her utter mortification, it took a single word from the Duke to stop her in her tracks.

She turned around, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at him. “What?” she asked indignantly.

“I merely wished to check if you were hurt.”

“No, I am not hurt. Only my pride,” she said as he reached her.

They were just on the edge of the woods now, a few feet from where the lawn met the tree line.

“Pride often comes before a fall.”

“Are youtryingto infuriate me?”

“No, but you are too stubborn for your own good.”

Alicia threw her hands up as she turned away from him, aiming for the house, before she felt a vice-like grip on her arm as he pulled her back.

She rounded on him, her dark eyes filled with heat as his hand came up and brushed against her cheek.

“You have mud on your face,” he said, an amused glint in his eyes.

She lost her temper.

He had dragged her here, reminded her of the convenience of their marriage, all but laughed at her for taking a tumble, and emphasized his endless arrogance in his insistence that she prove herself.

She shoved him hard in the chest, her jaw tensing as she ground her teeth. Suddenly, his eyes hardened, and he moved toward her with dark purpose.

Alicia gave a cry of surprise as his hands gripped her wrists, pushing her backward until her shoulder blades hit the trunk of a tree.

His gaze was smoldering now, and the desire in it undid her.

“You may be a convenience,wife,but do not lay a hand on me if you think it will not be returned.”

“Are you going to shove me back down the slope then?” she snapped. “Is that what you did before?”

Letting out a snarl of rage, the Duke pinned her hands above her head, his long fingers and wide palm easily enveloping both her wrists as he shoved her hard against the tree.

A branch jabbed into her back, and something wet touched her neck, but she could not see or feel anything but the heat of him against her.

“You know nothing about me,” he growled, a sense of danger radiating from him in waves as she tried to catch her breath.

His body was pressed against hers, and it was making her throb with need. This was different from the moment in her bedchamber before the wedding. There had been fear back then, and uncertainty.

Now, the only thing she was sure of was the desire in his gaze.

As his other hand found her waist and slid around her back, pulling her roughly against him, she could do nothing but melt into his arms.

“Perhaps I should teach my wife a lesson,” he murmured, just as a moan tore from her throat.

---