Page 62 of A Spinster for the Cold Duke

Her eyes flashed, as if his question had only served to infuriate her even more. “I am simply trying to remind you, Your Grace, that you should not be here with me like this. Not after that storm of gossip we stirred up back in the ballroom.”

Henry’s jaw clenched visibly. “I was of the opinion that you did not care for etiquette.”

She opened her mouth, but no sharp retort came. Instead, her breath hitched. It was a small, wounded sound that struck him far harder than her fury ever had.

And before he could even begin to understand why, something inside him twisted painfully.

CHAPTER 22

“Oh, please!” She seemed to choke on whatever imprecation she was about to hurl at him before she scoffed. “I’ve had enough of people’s impressions of me for tonight.”

Henry’s eyes flew wide. “What do you mean?”

Annabelle tilted her head at him then. “I mean, it is your attention that led me here, Your Grace. This dress, the dance… I am done. I left London precisely to avoid this kind of idiocy. I won’t suffer it again just because you merely wish to pass your time with me.”

“You think I am merely passing the time with you?” Now, his voice came out gruff, his annoyance rising with each second he considered the words she was saying.

Because it told him just how much she really didn’t know him, or the extent of the obsession she inspired in him.

“There is not much else to do with a woman of my circumstances, now is there?”

“Your circumstances?” Henry took a step closer. “What precisely do you mean by that?”

“Oh, please.” Her laugh was bitter. “You know exactly what I mean by that. You were the first to throw my status in my face the first time we met. A spinster past her prime. Hardly worthy of anything else but warming the Duke of Marchwood’s bed, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Stop it.” The words were a command and were rough with emotion.

But she seemed to want to drive him out of his mind with anger. “Why? Because I speak the truth? For a man so stiff with rules, you have no qualms throwing caution to the wind to sate your own desires. If you did, you would think about what dancing with me would mean for your daughter’s future?—”

Henry was not about to allow that. He closed the distance between them in two swift strides. His hands gripped her chin as he forced her to look at him.

“Stop this, Annabelle.” His voice was rough, and his warm breath wafted across her face.

Eyes flashing, she spat at him. “I speak nothing but fact, Your Grace. Being associated with me could harm Celia, and I?—”

Henry let out a sigh. “I would have thought you’d have figured out how much I want you by now.” The confession was torn out of him. “You must have been able to see how I’ve thought of nothing else but you for weeks, even before that kiss. How watching you in that gown tonight, seeing other men look at you with desire, has nearly driven me to madness.”

Annabelle’s breath caught, and her cheeks seemed to burn with something close to embarrassment. “Your Grace, you reach for fantasies if you think any men were watching me?—”

“Oh, they were. And I wanted to pull out every one of their eyeballs and feed them to the dogs.”.

He saw the moment she froze and looked up at him in shock.

Oh yes. Annabelle didn’t know just who he was underneath the mask of propriety he wore. She didn’t know of the beastly desires that prowled in the confines of his mind every time he looked at her.

“I… don’t understand…”

“I understand perfectly.” His thumbs brushed across her knuckles. “I understand that I purchased that gown because I wanted to see you wear it. I understand that I asked you to dance because I wanted to hold you in my arms. I understand that I followed you here because seeing you hurt made me want to tear that ballroom apart with my bare hands.”

“Your Grace. Stop.” Annabelle tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

“No,” he stepped forward. “No, I will not stop. Because you don’t want me to.”

“What—”

“I’ve had enough of this, Annabelle.” Henry’s vision tunneled so that she was the only thing he could see. “I’ve been imagining what it would be like to touch you, to taste you. To be inside you.” The words were stark and uncompromising.

Annabelle gasped. Her cheeks were scorching hot now, and he chuckled at the sight.

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