Page 19 of Duke Most Wicked

“You’re quite opinionated on the subject of my marital arrangements.”

“Because you’re not setting the right example for your sisters.”

“I don’t owe you any explanation for my actions or my choices. I’m the duke.”

“You can’t just explain everything away by saying you’re the duke.”

“Seems to work most of the time.”

“That’s your problem. You’ve been given free rein in life. You’ve never had to answer for your actions or suffer the consequences for misdeeds. And when you require a bride, why all you have to do is select the wealthiest, most beautiful one.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Are you jealous, by chance?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Her answer came glibly but something flickered in her eyes. He’d hit the mark. Interesting. “I could be soaking in a hot bath with a glass of mulled wine instead of standing here being chastised by a pint-sized virago about my choices.”

“I’m here to ask you to think about someone other than yourself. Think about your sisters. Their wishes. Their futures.”

“You’d do well to think of your own future, Miss Beaton,” he said gruffly, beginning to feel real annoyance surface.

“Is that a threat of dismissal, Your Grace? Honestly, of all the... you’re going to stand there being the most...”

“Yes?”

She was fighting for control. Clenching and unclenching her small fists. Probably wished to beat them against his chest.

What would it be like when the mild-mannered Miss Beaton exploded with rage?

Or pleasure.

Nowthatwould be something to see. Those green eyes sparking with desire, her cheeks rosy and her lips swollen and cherry-red from his kisses. The white lace cap would come off and waves of light brown hair would luxuriate over her shoulders, down her chest, covering the tops of her breasts but leaving her nipples exposed to his...

It had been a very long night and an even longer day.

She was obviously off-limits and completely forbidden given that she was his employee, and teacher and confidante to his sisters.

Here he was in the place where he was chastised and disciplined during his childhood. He’d be damned if he’d allow her to get under his skin. Or tell him what to do and how to live his life.

“If I’m a virago, Your Grace, then you’re a... you’re a...”

“If you’re going to insult me, Miss Beaton, please make it creative. I don’t want any dull, worn-out invectives. Find something that will really sting. I’m ready for it.”

“You’re a...”

“Yes?” He closed the distance between them. “What am I?”

Far too near. That’s what he was.

He stood so close that a slight step forward would bring her directly in contact with his imposing bulk.

How could she think of cutting insults whenhe was standing close enough to touch? All her mind wanted to do was invent scenarios in which kissing might occur. Even though he was arrogant and wrongheaded. And engaged to be married.

“If you’re not going to insult me, Miss Beaton, then you really should leave. For if you don’t leave, I may have to throw you over my shoulder like a roll of carpet and carry you out of this study.”

He wanted her to insult him so that he’d have reason to dismiss her. She should do quite the opposite. She should be charming and sweet and wrap him around her finger. Oh, why couldn’t she think of the disarming, witty remarks that would make him see things from her perspective?

She’d never been adept at repartee. She didn’t make brilliant, sophisticated responses when gentlemen attempted to banter with her. Sometimes, she thought of the perfect response days, even weeks, later. She’d be transcribing some melody her father was humming and the clever rejoinder she should have spoken would appear in her mind, in a bubble, as though she were an illustration by a caricaturist.

The duke threw her off-balance. He turned her mind to mush.

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