Chapter 3
Three
Before she could react, the curtain on the window was flung back and light poured into the room. Selina covered herself with the blanket as she looked at the handsome but imposing man standing before her.
His dark blue eyes seemed to sear into her soul. Despite his black hair being slightly disheveled in a way that would be boyishly charming on another man, he looked terrifying as he glowered down at her.
“Courtesans are not welcome in this house, madam.”
Anger flashed through her. She sat up, careful to stay covered with the blanket. “I am no courtesan! There has just been a misunderstanding.”
He crosses his arms in front of him. “A misunderstanding that led you to my room, where you proceeded to undress and get in bed with me?”
Her cheeks burned with humiliation and anger. “The room was dark and I thought I was alone! The dowager duchess gave me directions to my own room, where I could lie down and rest. I must have gotten the instructions wrong.”
But even as she said it, she knew she hadn’t gotten them wrong. The dowager had specifically said the third door on the left, after going up one more flight of stairs.
He sneered at her. “All of the guests are staying on the second floor.”
That didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Selina shut her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She could sort out the confusion later. Right now, she needed to get out of here before someone found them. “Could you please leave so I can get dressed?”
“This is my bedroom, and this is my manor. I will do no such thing.”
She scoffed, annoyance winning over embarrassment. “If this is your manor, then I presume you are the Duke of Greystone.”
He inclined his head in confirmation. “Am I to know the name of my failed seductress?”
“I’m Lady Selina Davidson.”
His eyes widened. “I’ve heard of you.”
“Many people have, I’m sure.” Unfortunately, the ton would not be quick to forget her brother’s misdeeds, not when many of them were still recovering from his theft.
His expression hardened. “Davidson. Of course. The family who left half of London clutching empty purses.” He let the words drip with disdain.
Her stomach twisted, though she lifted her chin. “At least my family’s sins are worn openly. I hear yours are colder, delivered with a smile as you cut people to pieces.”
Of course, Selina knew nothing of the particulars whispered about the duke, but cornered and humiliated as she was, she could not afford to appear small. If she could not defend her honor with facts, then she would do so with defiance and stand as tall as her pride would allow.
One of his brows arched, the faintest sign she had struck true. “You presume much for a woman found warming a duke’s sheets uninvited.”
“And you presume much for a man whose reputation is not one of charm but of cruelty,” she shot back.
His lips twitched as though he meant to smile, but he masked it quickly with another scowl. “Sharp tongue for someone in such a compromising position.”
Her pulse skittered. Why, oh why, did that sound more like a challenge than a warning?
“So this was your plan, then,” he said. “You pretended to get lost when looking for your room so you could trap a wealthy duke in marriage.”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort!” she said sharply. “Believe me, the last thing I intend to do is marry a self-important duke.”
“And yet you accepted an invitation for a gathering whose main purpose is to find a love match. Just because it is called the Duke Hunt does not mean I am your prey.” He smirked. “Do you really expect me to believe the sister of the most hated man in England just happened to be in the wrong room?”
She glared at him, feeling her face grow hot. “You of all people should know better than to listen to gossip. I have been back in London for only a few days, and I have already heard how cruel you are. Even if I intended to trap a man into marriage, you would be the last one I would ever consider.”
He tilted his head, taking a step forward so that the morning light cut across his jaw. “Cruel, am I? Do share. I am most eager to know what society whispers while sipping its tea.”
She swallowed hard, realizing too late that his nearness made it impossible not to notice the breadth of his shoulders, the heat radiating from his body.
“I have not required the details. But… it regards your late wife.”
He leaned closer, his voice velvet and steel. “And yet here you are, in my bed. Convenient, is it not?”
She gasped, outraged, though her traitorous body thrilled at his proximity. “I would sooner wed a chimney sweep!”
His chuckle was low, dangerous. “A pity. I might almost have liked being compared to a man who dirties his hands honestly.”
For the briefest moment, the world tilted.
She felt the rough pad of his thumb against her skin, and her heart leapt into her throat.
If he kissed her, heaven help her, she might not resist. Tears of frustration pricked at her eyes, though she refused to let them fall. She would not let him see her break.
He stepped closer to her, his eyes dark with anger, mixed with an emotion that she couldn’t recognize, but one that sent shivers down her spine.
He grabbed her chin, making her flinch. But his touch was surprisingly gentle.
“Do not provoke me, my lady.” His voice was a deep, growling tone that sent her thoughts scattering to the wind.
She pulled away from him and took a step back, trying to collect herself.
“I’m here for my sister,” she snapped. “I have no intention to marry you or anyone else. Believe it or not, women can have aspirations that have nothing to do with trapping unwilling men into matrimony. Now for heaven’s sakes, please leave the room so I can get dressed! ”
He smirked. “No. It’s my room. You intruded on my peace, and I am in no mood to be charitable to you or anyone else.” Much to her shock, he started to get back in the bed with her still in it.
“What are you doing?” she shouted as he got under the blanket with her. She pulled away from him, but her legs were tangled up in the quilt. She tumbled off the bed, taking the blanket and him with her.
They landed in a graceless heap, limbs entangled, the quilt binding them together like conspirators in some scandalous tableau. She struggled, her palms pressing against the solid wall of his chest. He caught her wrists with infuriating ease, pinning them above her head.
“Release me!” she demanded, her voice breathless.
His face hovered inches from hers, their noses almost brushing. “Why should I? You seem far safer here than anywhere else in this house.”
Her lips parted, a retort dying on her tongue as she caught the flicker of something dangerous—something hungry—in his eyes. Her chest rose and fell against his, every inhale reminding her just how close he was.
“Do not… look at me like that,” she whispered.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. “Then do not tempt me to.”
He stayed on top of her, and her cheeks flamed, even as she was fully aware of his lean, muscular body pressed against hers. Heat rushed to her lower stomach from the feeling of it.
She inhaled sharply, breathing in the musky scent of his cologne. His eyes widened slightly as he looked down at her. His lips parted as his gaze went to her mouth.
For a heartbeat, the world shrank to the span of a breath—the whisper of his hair brushing her temple, the heat of his thigh pressed scandalously between hers. She hated him. She wanted him. She could hardly tell where one feeling ended and the other began.
Before either of them could move, the door swung open and the dowager duchess stood on the other side. She looked at them, her expression full of triumph as she shouted. “Scandal! Disgrace!”