Page 89 of A Duke for Stealing
Behind her, a deep chuckle rose into the air.
“I hear that for you, there are many bothersome things,” the man mused.
Confused, Rose turned around and met the intense gaze of a blue-eyed noble she did not recognize at first. He was handsome, with a harshly sculpted jaw and cheekbones. Blonde hair wasneatly combed but long, and tied with a thong at his neck. His pale blue jacket and trousers matched his eyes, but something about the way he held himself told her he’d look better in darker colors.
A sheep in wolves’ clothing.
“Do I know you, Sir?” She asked.
“Oh, perhaps you know of me,” the man mused, taking a casual step toward her with his hands behind his back. “I do not believe we have been properly introduced. I recently discovered, however, that our reputations align quite perfectly, so I thought I would remedy that.”
Wariness filled Rose as she took a step back, her back hitting the very marble column she’d just been crying on.
“What do you mean, our reputations align?” She demanded.
The gentleman smirked.
“My name is Maxwell Stonehurst, Your Grace,” he replied with a quick bow of his head, “And I already know who you are.”
Recognition rang within Rose’s mind as she heard the name. He was a man like Everett- or like Everett used to be. Rakish. Lustful. Though his reputation was far more infamous for many reasons. He was a vicar’s son who had a taste for a morewicked way of life. It was said that he pursued women viciously, specifically married women.
“Well, whatever you have heard of me, it is false,” Rose insisted, commanding her courage to rise above her wariness. “We do not…alignin any way. Now, if you shall excuse me, I must return to my husband.”
Rose moved around the column quickly, trying to get past the impediment, but before she could get far, Maxwell’s hands slammed into the marble column by her head, closing her in. His blue eyes sparkled with lust as a wicked smile drew across his face, making Rose’s blood run cold.
“Are we to play a game?” He mused, lowering his head to hers. “Shall you be the mouse to my cat?
“This is not a game,” she breathed, pressing her body as tightly into the column as possible, trying to gain space from him. “Remove yourself at once.”
“Oh, good,” he practically moaned, “I prefer to be more direct anyway.”
Before Rose could blink, Maxwell’s right hand gripped her jaw tightly, making her cry out at the sudden pain.
“Let me go,” she managed to demand through his tight grip, then winced as it grew tighter.
“Why ever would I do that?” Maxwell purred, bringing his lips dangerously close to hers.
Rose opened her mouth to scream, but only a shard of sound broke free from her lips before his other hand clamped down on her mouth, muffling it.
“I like the fight,” he gritted, his body not moving an inch as Rose began to scratch at his jacket and face. “It makes everything so much sweeter. I know you like it too, you little temptress. Every rumor has a ring of truth to it. Do not deny it. You want this.”
Rose attempted to scream once more, to make purchase upon his face with her nails. She was able to succeed once, drawing three red lines down his perfectly sculpted alabaster face before his hand freed her jaw and caught her wrist.
“Not the face,” he snarled as he forced away from the column and pinned her back to his chest. He began to drag her backward, “You have a lot to learn about this, Your Grace. But worry not, I will teach you.”
Rose struggled and attempted to scream again as she felt herself being dragged into a dark room. Fear tunneled through her veins as she was drawn further away from the others. She reached for the door frame, her nails almost able to grip the wood, and when that did not work, she attempted to use her feet to catch the door frame- and that was when she saw Everett’s face appear.
His green eyes were nearly black with rage as he flew into the room. One arm wrapped around her waist as the other threw apowerful punch into Maxwell’s face. Maxwell let go of Rose with a howl.
“Get your hands off my wife!” Everett snarled, pulling Rose protectively into his arms.
He turned to her quickly, his dark eyes wide with worry as his trembling hands moved from her waist up to her cheeks.
“Are you well? Did he hurt you?” He asked.
The shift in his voice was remarkable, going from savage to soft in an instant. His tone cloyed at Rose’s heart. She shook her head, even though her jaw still stung from Maxwell’s type grip.
“No,” she whispered as Ophelia rushed in.
