Page 17 of A Scandalous Love for the Enticing Duke
It was fun to live this way, and when the time came, she would settle down with a man who held her interest longer than any other man ever had. She was not one who believed in love at first sight. Oh, she knew love existed, saw it in her father’s eyes every time he looked at Mother. Sometimes, she saw it in her mother’s eyes when she looked at him, but more in the way she always seemed to reach for him whenever he was around her, completely oblivious of her unconscious action. She knew that if she chose a man who was good at heart like her father, they could grow in love, nurture and care for it like a garden, so that it bore beautiful fruits.
Regardless, her lack of experience in the matter of love did not mean that she did not understand what Agnes was going through. She knew her sister was hurting, badly. However, there was little she could do to help. If Agnes was not ready to take a stand for herself after all these years, against her mother and against society, then she was not one to get involved.
She recalled the directions she had taken on the tour and made the first turn as she got to the top of the stairs. As she did, she heard footsteps by her right and turned to see a man approaching from the hallway by her side. Immediately he stepped into full light, she recognised who it was.
Benjamin Witherspoon. The fine, elite bachelor, relative of the Prince Regent, and sixty-third in line to the throne. Wealthy by his hand, and by inheritance, made Duke at the early age of 19, though he rarely went by that title. Quite a lot, she would agree. Yet, it was only a part of the reason why the girls would not stop throwing themselves at him, regardless of the number of broken hearts he left on his trail. For beyond his title and wealth, the man himself was lethal. Dangerously handsome, tall, dark-haired, he moved with the fluid grace of a man who knew his worth and the power he wielded. Add that to his charm, it was little wonder why half of the female population in the whole of England, young and old women alike, married and unmarried, pined for him. Unfortunately, he wasaware of this, so while he could be extremely humble about his position, when it came to his relationship with women, he was an arrogant bastard who generally assumed he could get any woman he wanted. It was the sole reason Isabelle hated his guts. Never the fact that she found him attractive. God forbid she ever did!
“Well... Well... Well...” he began, as he reached her, stopping a foot away from her. Too close for comfort. However, Isabelle could not decide whether she wanted to step back or move closer, so she stood her ground.
“Lost are we?” His lips curved into the gorgeous smirk she despised so much. Her hands itched to wipe it off his face.
She scoffed, unable to help it, and since losing her sense of propriety came naturally where Benjamin was involved, she rolled her eyes.
“And if I were? Would you transform into a valiant knight and rescue a poor damsel in distress?”
Benjamin did not miss the taunt in her voice, or the fact that she had mocked him either. This was Isabelle Birmingham, and it came as no surprise. She was his archenemy. In less colourful words, a pain in his arse. She drove him crazy, for sometimes he wanted to strangle her, other times, he wanted to spread her legs open on his four poster bed and ravish her properly until the only words that escaped her mouth were pleas for him. Many called her a sweetheart. It made him want to bark with laughter. She was a sorceress, plain and simple, with that red hair and onyx eyes she had got from her great grandmother. Zeandra had been rumoured to be a witch; he had a feeling that blood ran in Isabelle.
“Maybe. Except...” He paused as he looked around for effect. “I see no damsel. Only a witch, in the form of a lady.”
She did not miss a beat. “Careful. I might just cast a spell. Who knows what you would find missing.” Her eyes fluttered down to his crotch and back to his eyes, and a wave of fear hit him. It did not matter if she was simply taunting him, he did not play with his manhood, ever.
Still, he could not let her know she’d won this round, so he willed his fear away, wearing his mask.
“Tsk tsk. Sheath your claws, cat. I do not do well with threats. Besides, I am certain the Duchess will not be too happy to find out you are lounging in the halls, instead of fetching your sister like you were asked to.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, instantly wishing she actually had said claws.
“Have you fallen so madly in love with me that you have planted spies to keep record of my movements?”
He laughed at this, and she hated the way his deep voice sounded so good, carrying through the hallway.
“In your wildest of dreams, and I know you do have them.” He stepped closer, causing her bosom to rub against his chest, and she gave an involuntary intake of breath.
She almost slapped herself when she saw the glint in his eyes. Of course, he would have noticed that. Now, he would feel as though he had an upper hand in this unending tussle for power. He confirmed this when he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear and traced the curve of her jaw, down to her neck. Everywhere he touched burned and tingled at the same time. It was a miracle, how she managed to betray nothing.
She contemplated asking him to take his hands off her and step away, but she knew he would see that as weakness. Interpret it as his nearness and touch affected her – which was the truth. Nonetheless, he did not have to know that.
“When I appear in those dreams, it will be all those things I can see your eyes begging me to do, those things which you are too stubborn to ask for with your lips. Still, even in that land where anything could be possible, I, Benjamin Witherspoon, would never fall in love with you, Isabelle. It would do you well not to have such fool’s thoughts.”
Those words hit her like a slap, and she stepped away, immediately. “That remains our problem. You think too highly of yourself, Witherspoon. One day, you shall find a woman who will humble you. I know you think that is what I intend to do, but believe me when I say, I have no such intentions. I would only be too glad to watch it happen, when it does. And oh, it will.”
With that, she turned and resumed her business, aware that he was following behind her. She could hear his footsteps, his snickers which grinded on her insides; she could feel his dominating presence. Swallowing hard, she struggled to block everything off. She was no maybe schoolgirl; she could handle attraction. Especially when it was a fatal one.
After a while, she heard his footsteps again as she took the last turn. She felt so much better and wanted to laugh at herself for her reaction earlier, for letting him get to her. She should have known better.
“Are you following me? Have your hands become so idle that you have nothing better to do? Why? Do not tell me all the ladies have so quickly tire of you” She spared him no glance, trudging onwards.
“You would want that of course, so you could have me to yourself. Alas, no. I am simply on the way to the library myself, to let my dear friend know it is time to meet his future wife.”
She stopped abruptly, turning to look at him, retort for his earlier statement, forgotten.
“You are friends with Nicholas Stamford?”
“Yes. Since we were only kids. You could call us brothers.”
“I suppose I should inform my beloved sister of my findings. If the saying, birds of a feather, flock together, holds any truth, I reckon we have cause for alarm. I am afraid I cannot sit back and let her marry a man of such despicable character.”
Benjamin chuckled at this, not minding the bite at all.
