Page 5 of Never a Duchess
Oh, the devil!
“So, you have moved from coercion to blackmail.”
“Having an adventurous spirit can be dangerous.”
“It is not your concern.”
“I am making it my concern.”
“My brother knows about my hobby.”
The duke frowned. “Needlecraft is a hobby.” His gaze moved from the telescope to the window, and he made entirely the wrong assumption. “By all the saints! Ye write for theScandal Sheet. Ye’re here gathering evidence.”
“What? No!” She would not take the blame for writing utter rubbish and ruining ladies’ lives. “My name has appeared in that ridiculous rag more than once. Why would I damage my own reputation?”
“’Tis the perfect ruse.” Dounreay dragged his hand through his thick brown hair and sighed. “Do ye know what thetonwill do if they find out?”
“I do not write for theScandal Sheet.”
“Then why carry a telescope?”
Mother of all saints!
Why could he not simply find another dance partner instead of prying into her personal affairs?
“If I could trust you, I would tell you.” She pointed to the secret door. “Instead, I beg you return to the ballroom before people realise we’re both missing.”
Dounreay stepped closer, lowering his voice to a husky whisper. “Ye can trust me, Miss Ware. I would never betray a confidence.”
“You threatened to tell my brother.”
“Perhaps I’ve decided to pledge my loyalty instead.”
Something passed between them.
A crackle of energy.
A heightened tension she could not explain.
Dounreay was as dangerous as he was dashing.
“Promises are quickly made and easily broken.” She blinked to dismiss bitter memories. “Nothing you could say would persuade me to trust you.”
“Aye, because ye’re a woman of action, nae words. What if I do something to prove my fealty?”
“Fealty? You’re a duke, not a vassal.”
“Yet ye make me forget I’m anything but a man.” He reached down, hiked up his right trouser leg and pulled the small knife from a sheath strapped to his calf. “It’s asgian dubh. A Scotsman’s survival tool. A weapon of many purposes.”
Lillian swallowed hard. “And what do you mean to do with it?”
Fear and excitement coursed through her when Dounreay held up the blade and examined the steel beneath a shaft of moonlight. “I mean to draw blood.”
Blood!
She should flee, but every instinct said he would not hurt her. And by God, she found this man utterly fascinating.
She met his gaze. “Your blood?”
