Page 6 of The Untamed Duke
Grace’s low laughter sprayed thrills along his spine. A slight bump in the middle of her nose marred its otherwise arrow-straight elegance. It appeared to have been broken in the past. She wrinkled it at him now.
“You should know I cannot save you from Lady Celia’s attentions. She’s spoken of you incessantly since the Warner’s Ball, and my presence will not deter her. Her affection for you, while fickle, is sincere.”
Nicholas scowled. Celia was a recent development and annoying as hell. Tristan, damn his hide, only chuckled at his grumbled complaints. “It’s best to ride out her infatuation,” his friend serenely advised the month before. “Celia will grow bored if you show no encouragement.”
As if Nicholas ever would encourage his friend’s sister. She was off limits. As was the woman whose elbow he currently gripped.
“Why were you not at the Warner’s Ball?” he asked softly.
Grace hesitated, appearing unsure of the subject matter. “I was visiting my cousin and Lady Ravenswood at Beaumont.”
“I’d heard Sebastian ran across a bit of trouble concerning his aunt around the time my father passed away. I’ve been assured of his full recovery.”
Her head tilted. “I’m afraid to ask how much you know of the incident.”
Nicholas’s features were a mask of blank politeness. “Then you shouldn’t ask.” He knew everything. Now that he was a duke, few things of note were kept secret from him. All manner of spies and informants scattered about the country took care of that. “I can’t imagine Longleigh was happy with your absence from Town. Is he very smitten with you?”
“It’s hardly a secret. I think all of London knows of his courtship.” Sly devilment danced in Grace’s expressive eyes. “If he discovers I eluded his advances and finds you here in his stead...”
Nicholas barely comprehended her words, too busy wondering what level of sweetness the fullness of her lower lip contained. What might happen ifhekissed her? Submission or Tristan’s fate? How hard would she strikehimwith that enormous book on Viking invasions? He was very tempted to find out.
“Stay,” he murmured.
Grace swayed toward him, and every blood vessel, cell, vein, and nerve...everything alive inside him tightened with anticipation. Sweet fires of hell. He wanted her. He had no idea why, having just met her. But he did. It bewildered him.
“Why would I do that?” Grace smiled.
“Because I said so.”
“I suppose you are accustomed to having your way in all things,” she said softly.
His response was a noncommittal grunt.
“Richeforte?”
“Yes?”
“You’re holding my arm rather tightly.”
Nicholas glanced down at her accusing whisper. Where he gripped her, his hand was dark in contrast, but her skin was not the pale white sported by ladies of theton. This girl was a luscious, golden hue. Hair, eyes, skin. As if she was spun from drops of sunlight. Some might consider her hair an ordinary shade of blonde, but a poet would describe it differently. Neither amber nor champagne, the silky straight mane glowed like late summer honey. Rich and shimmery, a tousled fringe of bangs brushed dark, chestnut eyebrows. The playful afternoon breeze sifted through those layers with the gentleness of a lover’s fingers.
Grinding his teeth, Nicholas pondered her allure. He despised blonde women. Neither trusted them nor liked them. He certainly did not find them attractive. But something about this one was proving irresistible, even if her family associations made her dangerous. Her cousin, Sebastian, would truly finish him off if he ever learned of their meeting.
“You could encounter Longleigh on your way back,” he said, unwilling to release her.
Grace nodded. “I’ve experience in dealing with him. You’ve probably precious little when it comes to Lady Celia. I suspect your concern is more for your preservation when it comes to facing her, rather than worry for my safety.”
Nicholas swallowed a growl of amused frustration. The way her chin rose indicated she enjoyed their sparring, which incinerated any intention he possessed of keeping his distance. Their back and forth intrigued him...and only made him want her more.
“You’ll need protection.”
She laughed. Out loud. At him. “Protection? From whom?”
“Longleigh,” he snarled, forgetting the fleeting appreciation of her sauciness. What an infuriating brat she was.
“He’s not the one currently bruising my arm.”
Her breathy sigh of reproach was inflammatory. A sudden need to hear it again, whispering across his bare skin, moaned in his ear, crushed Nicholas with barely restrained lust. His dominant nature reacted strongly when Grace sucked in a tiny breath of air.
