Page 11 of Her Beast of a Duke
“Then I will not scream,” she answered calmly. “Perhaps instead, we can go back inside. Coordinated timing, of course. We can have that dance we spoke of.”
She gave him a simpering smile, but she could feel how pinched it was, how uncertain.
Words were honey, and she needed him to stick to them like a bee.
Lord Peregrine scoffed, sneering down at her. “Adance. A dance is a mere veil over the true desires of half of those couples possess for one another. I do not care for dances at the moment, Lady Isabella. I care for somethingfarmore diverting.”
Her stomach dropped as he stepped closer, forcing her to turn her back toward the balcony’s edge. With one last step, her back hit the stone balustrade, and all she could see was the cruel, handsome face above her that showed all malice and no mercy.
“Your reputation is in tatters,” Lord Peregrine murmured, lifting a hand, as if to stroke down her cheek. Isabella cringed andturned her face away, but he had only been toying with her, and her reaction made his smile widen. “You are already a jilted bride. Why not allow yourself to loosen up now? You know the diversions I speak of. Your sister, the Duchess of Branmere, seemed to as well, if her scandalous painting was anything to go by.”
“Leave my sister out of this,” Isabella snapped.
In one sharp movement, she tried to duck beneath the arm he had raised to get his hand close to her, but her elbows were cinched in by a grip she had not expected. A hard gasp left her as she was forced back against the stone.
“Do be quiet, Lady Isabella,” Lord Peregrine purred, leaning his face toward her neck. “Now that your betrothed has left you, let me show you what fun we can have together.”
Isabella still struggled, but her screams caught in her throat. Her heart hammered so hard she feared she would be sick. Clumsy fingers pawed at her dress.
Letting out a distressed, terrible noise, Isabella made one last break for it.
Her dress tore, but she was pinned just as quickly as before. His body pressed against hers, hard and forceful, and she fought the urge to cry for help.
A hand clasped around one of her thighs, over her dress. Isabella stiffened, her breaths coming out terrified and sharp.
But before that hand moved anywhere else, Lord Peregrine was pulled away from her.
His body moved back so rapidly that she blinked, and he was gone, leaving only shadows in his wake as he stumbled.
Isabella blinked into the darkness and saw an expression of alarm on Lord Peregrine’s face. “Who is?—”
An animalistic growl reverberated through the shadows as footsteps sounded.
A form, larger and broader than Lord Peregrine’s, stalked forward so that the gentleman was bathed in moonlight. He dipped his chin low and pierced Lord Peregrine with a loathsome stare before muttering darkly, “Get away from her.”
Chapter Three
“Get away from her.Now.”
A scuff of a boot sounded through the very silent balcony, and Isabella’s breath caught as she got her first glimpse of her savior.
Only, her stomach dropped when she saw the full form of him, drawn up to an impossibly tall height. Isabella herself was taller than most women, but she did not think she would even reach beyond his jawline.
A ragged, dark beard covered the man’s jaw and neck, thick around his mouth, which was twisted into a snarl as he stared down Lord Peregrine. She bit back a noise as she saw a deep scar that cleaved his face down one side. It was as tanned as his skin now, but it looked as though it had once been the worst injury one could imagine.
What happened to him?
When the man raised his hands to reach for Lord Peregrine, the light from the ballroom at his back illuminated the many scars littered over his hands.
Isabella realized who she was in the presence of:
The Duke of Rochdale.
The people of thetonhad branded him a beast because of his hideous scars, yet here he was, defending her from a true fiend, Lord Peregrine.
Her eyes cut to Lord Peregrine, who gaped at the Duke with wide-eyed terror.
“You… you are interrupting a private conversation, Your Grace.”
