Page 23 of A Gamble with the Rakish Duke
“W-What do you mean?” She closed the book and hid it behind her back.
Oliver had already seen it, but it seemed like an invitation for more goading if she left it on display.
“You know what I mean. Do you always hide behind your innocence?” he asked, inching even closer.
He was looking down at her, but there was no menace there. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his nostrils flared. Alexandra tried not to breathe in his natural musky scent. Her fingernails pressed harder into the leather binding of the book she held as she barely restrained herself from throwing her arms around him. She had never felt such a scandalous urge before.
Perhaps it was the book, but deep inside, she knew that it was the man in front of her.
“I-I simply think you should not be walking around the house with no shirt on, Your Grace,” she whispered, but she would not let him see her retreat.
She stood where she was, feeling the heat of his skin on her body and his breath on her forehead as she held his gaze.
“Ah. Do we also have rules against reading materials?” he asked, reaching behind her and gently prying the book from her hand. He inspected it closely, but it was clear he knew what it was about.
“Lady Laverton gave it to me,” she protested, reaching for the book with one hand. “If you would give it back, please.”
Oliver raised it higher, out of her reach.
“Your Grace,” she gritted out.
She was about to jump to reach for her book, but then she decided against it. He would not see her beg for anything, much less jump like a prized dog.
She turned around in a huff and strode away.
“Duchess.” His voice held a soft plea that sent a shiver down her spine.
Her toes curled at the familiar way his hand reached out, resting lightly on her arm, respectful but intimate.
His touch was warm against her already heated skin. He didn’t curl his fingers around her arm. He just held her there, gentle but firm enough to keep her close.
When he pulled her toward him, she didn’t resist, though her breathing grew shallow, catching in her throat. His arm slid around her waist, drawing her into the solid warmth of his damp torso.
The contact made her pulse quicken, and she barely stifled a moan as her body responded to his nearness.
No.
“Duchess, you keep running away from me. I am your husband, and I merely want to get to know you. After all, you are the reason I… have abstained for more than a year now.”
“That cannot be true. You? Abstaining?” she asked, her voice coming out hoarse as if she had been screaming.
Oliver nodded, his gaze steady, though there was something dark and teasing just beneath the surface. “Oh yes. Despite what you have heard about me, I am still a man of honor. No matter what the world might think of me.”
His words surprised her, sent a shiver through her.
His lips quirked into a half-smile, and his voice dropped. “But, Duchess, let me tell you… it’s getting much harder to remain honorable, with you standing this close.”
Her heart skipped a beat at his words. It was subtle, but the implication sent heat to her cheeks. Her fingers twitched against his chest, betraying her faltering resolve.
“And you’re not making it any easier,” he added, his eyes boring into hers. “But perhaps we could work on…honoringour vows. Together.”
Alexandra’s breath caught in her throat as the meaning of his words sank in. His hand slid up her arm, just grazing her neck, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.
But before her body could betray her further, she quickly stepped back, breaking eye contact.
“You shouldn’t say such things, Your Grace,” she managed, her voice barely steady.
His smile widened, and this time, it was pure wickedness. “Oh, but I will, Duchess. And I suspect you’ll come to want me to.”
