Page 6 of Wedded to the Forbidden Duke
“I do.” The duke cleared his throat. “So, from what you have heard and read if you were to go to—say, Paris. Is there anything in particular you would want to see?”
“The Arc de Triomphe, certainly,” she said without pause, voice suddenly relaxing and filling with passion. As she continued to speak, the angry flush in her cheeks seemed to turn to one of excitement. Her eyes were still bright, but with stars rather than fire. “The churches. I have a great interest in the architecture.” She tilted her head. “Unlike some, who I am sure would be more interested in frequenting the more disreputable establishments.”
Of course, she could not resist but slip in that last dig,thought the duke.
And yet he could not help but laugh, entirely unoffended by her comment or her tone, even as the rest of the table watched on looking positively scandalized. He found her defiance intoxicating, imagining the feel of her pressed against him, their heated arguments turning into something far more primal.
“My dear Lady Cecilia,” he said, “In my experience traveling, I have often found that the disreputable establishments are where one may find the best, most intriguing stories. Would not you agree, Lindbury?”
Zachary, caught off guard and still lost in conversation with Nancy, turned, surprised. “Yes, yes, I suppose so.”
“It is true,” Nancy added, after a brief awkward pause, “one can often find adventure in the least expected places.”
Cecilia smiled tightly. It seemed she understood that, while she may have found easy victory on the pall-mall court, the battle tonight was not hers to win. “Well,” she said. “You have certainly convinced me, my lord. Perhaps you would not mind lending me your travel diaries sometime, so that I may study from someone with true travel experience.”
“I appreciate your interest in my perspectives and my travels, my lady,” Ian replied. “Thought I am not certain it would be wise or kind of me to oblige this particular request.” He leaned in closer, relishing the way her breath caught and her brows lifted slightlyin anticipation of what he might say. “You see, I fear my journals are not for the faint of heart.”
Cecilia did not respond. Her jaw tightened, but she remained silent.
Lady Lindbury cleared her throat. “Well! Anyone for some dessert?”
As the servants brought out the dessert, a mouth-watering concoction of baked apples and pudding, Cecilia leaned forward to address the duke, her voice pitched so that only the two of them could hear. It was the type of tone Ian was used to hearing from a lover, not a combatant, even as the words that followed assured him she was firmly the latter: “I assure you, Your Grace, my heart is far from faint. You will be sorely disappointed if you are expecting me to back down.”
He watched as her chest heaved with the deep breath she took, her eyes flashing with a mix of fury and something deeper. This battle of wills, this delicious tension… It was something he knew they both thrived on.
“My dear Lady Cecilia,” he said, voice lowered to match hers perfectly. “I would be disappointed if you did. I am certain you will not back down—and neither will I.”
Chapter Three
“Ihad such a wonderful time at dinner last night, Cecilia.” Nancy’s eyes were bright as they walked along the park path, with their mothers Lady Lindbury and Lady Sheridan trailing behind as chaperones. “I must thank you and your mother again for having us over. Such stimulating conversation, would not you agree?”
“Mmhm,” Cecilia replied, trailing off into her thoughts as Nancy continued to speak. Even just thinking about the events of last night needled Cecilia to no end. How easily she had let the duke get the better of her!
That rude, arrogant, self-important scoundrel,she thought furiously.
Worst of all was how difficult he was to shake from her mind. Impossible, even. Even now, walking arm-in-arm with her best friend through Hyde Park, her attempts to enjoy the clementweather and verdant lawns kept being interrupted by thoughts of those low-pitched taunts, those sharp blue eyes…
“—do you not think, Celie?”
“Hm?” Cecilia snapped back to attention.
Nancy looked up at her with bright blue eyes, and even brighter flushed cheeks. “Are you quite all right, Cecilia? You seem to have been quite out of sorts since last night.”
“It is nothing.” Cecilia shook her head. “Forgive my rudeness. I did not sleep as well as I had hoped.” That, at least, was true. She had lain her head down on her pillow, still fairly fuming with frustration at the duke’s persistence in annoying her, only to find him raking her dreams, as well—disturbing her sleep with sly smirks, smart retorts, and those dark blue eyes. It was almost too much to bear.
She forced herself to push him from her head and smiled down at her friend. “What is it you were asking me?”
“Well…” Nancy paused and bit her lower lip. Suddenly she faced forward, as though she could not bear to look at her friend when she said what she said next. “I only said that—travel seems to agree with Zachary, does it not?”
“Does it?” Cecilia asked, trying not to be too obvious. She pursed her lips, nodding as they continued to walk. “I suppose it does. I have heard that food overseas can be good for one’s health, andthat the rigors of travel are meant to have a beneficial effect on both body and spirit.”
“Yes. Yes, of course,” Nancy agreed. Her voice softened. “And when he speaks—it is with a great passion and reverence for the places he has seen. It is clear he took every opportunity to learn, while still holding England nearest and dearest to his heart. He was a great conversationalist last night, and fetching, too—not that—I…” Nancy trailed off.
Cecilia gave her a moment, before prodding gently, “What is it you are trying to say, Nancy?”
“Only that—” Nancy squeezed her eyes shut. “I am rather fond of him,” she said quickly, then peered up at Cecilia out of one eye. “Oh, you mustn’t be cross with me, Celie!”
“Cross? Why would I be cross? You are my best friend, and he is my brother; you are two of the people most dear in the world to me. I should be cross if he had done something to sour you against him; if you are fond of him, that simply means he was polite to you as he ought to have been.”
