Page 7 of Her Beastly Duke
“I frightened you in my own house?”
His tone was soft mockery, and the smile that played across his lips was more of a grimace. It disappeared as quickly as it had materialized, replaced with pursed lips and an icy glare.
Briar felt a rising sense of panic. He was a strong man, and she was alone in his library. Uninvited. Duncan had no notion of where to find her. She was exposed, and her mind was scrambling. She must run away, but surely, he would be faster. Briar had no doubt he would catch her, so she had to think of another way. She couldn’t fall apart. Unflappable and courageous was what she needed to be in the face of this debacle. Briar took a step forward and rested the painting against the wall.
“You are wearing my patience thin. Who are you, and why are you stealing my painting? You do not look like a common thief, yet evidently, you are.”
He had already categorized her and made an assumption about her character and integrity. And in doing so, he presented her with an ideal opportunity. From her experience of being confined to Walcot Hall, anyone in seclusion must suffer some degree of boredom and crave stimulation. She had to find a way to play on that and create a moment to escape. The two most stimulating things she knew were dancing and fencing. Briar glanced around the room for a weapon, then her eyes fell uponthem. She did not hesitate. Briar raised her chin, removed her gloves, and threw them down in a challenge.
“You have wounded me, my lord.”
“I have wounded you,” he slowly repeated.
“I am not a common thief without dignity. I was merely righting a wrong. This is our field of honor. Right here, right now.”
Inside, she was crying at her bold gambit, but perhaps she would fascinate him enough to make him indulgent and less frightening.
Briar quickly moved toward the rapiers as the duke watched her every move, yet she did not waver under the intensity of his stare. She deftly removed one rapier from the sheath and threw it to the duke, who caught it with ease. Taking the other for herself, she squared her shoulders.
The duke arched a brow. “What manner of madness is this?”
There it was— that hint of curiosity and amazement in his tone. It was that which she needed to leverage. The duke gazed at her as if she were a rare specimen to be studied carefully, trying to understand her.
Despite the scar, the duke was unquestionably handsome, with his sensual mouth, prominent cheekbones, and thick, wild brown hair that curled softly at his nape. Briar almost shook her head to clear such thoughts. She was about to fight; she could not be distracted. Holding her blade pointed toward the floor but outstretched, she made her intentions clear. The challenge had been issued.
“I propose a challenge, Your Grace.”
She saw something flicker in his eyes but wasn’t sure if it was admiration or amusement.
“A challenge?” he mockingly drawled. “I’m listening.”
“We shall duel.” Briar swallowed tightly. “If you best me, I must answer your question and tell you whatever you want to know,” she confidently announced.
The duke chuckled. “If I beat you. Fencing is one of my passions, my lady. I will beat you.”
“Such arrogance when you do not know my skill,” Briar said through gritted teeth. “I am good.”
He lifted a brow. “And I am even better.”
A slow smile touched his mouth, and Briar hated to admit there was a strange but very becoming warmth unfurling somewhere low in her stomach.
She gave an exaggerated sigh. “Do not dismiss me so quickly, Your Grace. I am a most excellent opponent.”
The duke cocked his head to the side and shook it. “Bold, I must say. Excellent? That is yet to be determined.”
She raised a brow and gave him a steely stare. “So, you agree?”
“Agree to what exactly?”
There was something provocative in his tone. Briar clenched her jaw and silently counted to five. “To a duel.”
“Why do we need to duel?”
Her belly tightened. “Will you allow me to leave with the painting without any answers provided? I will repay the amount you paid for it, Your Grace. It will not be theft.”
“Allow an intruder in my private sanctuary to simply leave? Have you lost your senses?”
Her chest squeezed with anxiety. She hoped his fascination would push him to agree to this madness. Though she was amazed at her own audacity, it was too late to retreat. While many rumors described the duke as a beast, just as many suggested, he was honorable. Perhaps she could bargain with him and leave unscathed. This was her best plan—her only plan.“Then accept my challenge. If I win, you will allow me to leave without question.”
