Page 11 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“Ah, so you admit youarea lady.” That maddening smirk graced his lips again, and Penelope only glared at him. “And you are a lady who is sneaking into Julian Gray’s house in the dark hours. I would say that is my concern, seeing as I know both the Marquess of Langwaite and Gray.”
Her pulse raced, her face flushing with anxiety. “Are you going to tell Finley?”
Heavens, she wished her voice was not so quiet, so scared.
“Should I?”
“No,” she said, her voice firmer. She was not used to making decisions, and having one presented to her confused her. “No, you should not.”
For a moment, the Duke studied her in a silence that set her on edge. She swallowed, her fingertips toying with the cuffs of her silk gloves.
“Convince me,” he said, his voice hushed.
Penelope’s eyes widened, a small gasp falling from her lips. “Convince you?”
“Yes.” Those gray eyes assessed her. “Give me one good reason why I should stay quiet about your presence here. I am sure the Marquess would not take kindly to knowing that his younger stepsister is at the back door of an escort’s house.”
She could pretend that she did not know Julian Gray’s occupation, but she knew she would only be called out on her lie a moment later. But she did not want to let this Duke of Blackstone intimidate her either. He had already thwarted her plans.
A thought came to her mind, different and enticing. The thought of kissing him—of pressing her mouth to his to kiss away those arrogant, amused words and accusations, to stop her own awkward attempts to speak her way out of this.
To be the sort of woman who could convince a man to do her bidding not with words but with a kiss that would leave him as breathless as it might leave her.
Her eyes dropped to his full lips, and she shivered at how easy it would be to tilt her head, to curl her fingers into his dark hair, part her lips beneath his, and?—
Heavens, Penelope, she chided herself inwardly.
Lifting her chin, she steeled her voice. “Because this is a personal matter, and I do not know you. Who are you to shove your nose in my business?”
Again, he only gave her that crooked, bemused smile—something not quite cruel, but perhaps sarcastic. A man who had power and knew how to use it to get the answers he wanted from someone.
“Tell me, My Lady, did you come to Gray’s doorstep for a night of passion? Perhaps I can give you that, and you may keep your illicit secret.”
Penelope gasped again, her mouth falling open slightly in pure scandal.
Pressing a hand to her chest, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You are a scoundrel, Your Grace.”
“And yet you are still here.” His laugh was dark and almost melodic, roughly so, sending a shiver down her spine that she was sure was of fear.
And she knew—shewasstill there. Perhaps… perhaps a small part of her did not want to part from the man’s gaze.
Her accusation only seemed to amuse him further, for he looked at her expectantly. Yet the thought of such a scoundrel offering a night of passion…
Why did it not make her flinch away as much as it should have?
Once again, her gaze swept over him—every handsome feature, the shadows dancing over his face, emphasizing his jaw and sharp cheekbones. He truly was good-looking, and the way he spoke to her made her stomach curl ever so differently from when other men had approached her at social gatherings.
Gulping, she knew she had to leave once and for all. She could not let him continue this behavior. She would already be in enough trouble.
Attempting to move around him one last time, Penelope was again blocked.
“For all your taunting of me still being here, there seems to be one reason for that—you will not get out of my way,” she bit out, only to be met with silence.
Penelope stared right back at him, refusing to back down.
The Duke’s eyes lit up, perhaps at the venom in her voice, perhaps seeing it as a challenge.
“I could show you what it is you are seeking.” He slowly tilted his head, eyeing her. “And I could teach you a far more enticing way to mind your tongue with a duke.”
