Page 7 of My Ruthless Duke

“What are you doing? You cannot be in here!” She yelped, her voice higher pitched than she would have liked. She wished she could have told him off soundly. She could not be alone in a closed room with a man! “If you do not leave at once, I… I shall scream!”

The corner of the duke’s lips quirked upward, and he closed the rest of the distance between them, his hand covering the lower half of her face with ease as he pushed her up against the closest wall. Her hands scrambled for purchase, for something to defend herself with, but could not reach even the closest bookshelf.

“Be my guest. I can think of several ways to quiet you, Little Flower.” The duke’s gaze looked near ravenous as it dropped to her body. “Though, I am not sure you will like them.”

The quiet, reserved charm that he had had in the parlor was gone—replaced with something far darker.

Panic made her bold.

Her hands braced against the duke’s firm chest as she attempted to push him away from her. He would not budge. He was so much larger than her that she had no chance of getting away without his permission. Slowly, his hand left her face, resting on the wall on either side of her head.

“T-this is indecent, Your Grace! We cannot be unchaperoned!”

He shrugged, just a lift of one shoulder. “I do not care much for such trivial rules,” he paused, taking in every detail of her face. “Besides, I think that your mother is quite fond of me already.”

“And which version of you is supposed to be the real one? The falsely charming one, or this brutish one?” Cordelia snapped, her anger palpable in the air between them. “You do not fool me, Your Grace, and you will find that I am not so easily bought, either.”

“Is that right?” The duke asked.

“Yes! Even if my mother has consented to this engagement, I have made no such vows. I amwellaware of your reputation, and I shall not be shackled to the sort of man that you are.”

His fingers curled, lifting her chin to look at him, and she could not bring herself to tear her eyes away.

“And what sort of man am I?”

It was hard to breathe properly when he looked at her like that. A sadistic sort of amusement glinted in his eyes. She did not think that she could bring herself to run from him even if she had had the space to do so. If only he were not so painfully handsome, then he would not be so distracting!

“You…. you are a killer. Everyone says so…” She breathed.

It dawned on her a moment too late how foolish it was to accuse him of such things in a situation like this one. If he were indeed a killer, she could be risking sending him into a rage. If he were not, then she was gravely offending him with accusations. Neither of which was going to allow this exchange to end in her favor.

The duke smirked, an incredulous sound leaving his lips before he pressed his lips to hers.

She thought to pull her face away, but she could not will herself to do so.

This was not at all how she imagined her first kiss.

Only, his grip on her face shifted. Instead of lifting her chin, he cupped her jaw in his hand and held her in place as his lipssoftened against her own. Every thought eddied out of her head, leaving a buzzing silence and the sharp awareness of his lips against her own. Her body responded on its own. She swore it did as she found herself kissing him back.

The hands she had been pushing him away with softened, and he absorbed every inch of leeway that she gave him. A man who insulted her so deeply ought not to feel so nice pressed against her; his lips had no right to make her feel so sinfully good.

When he broke from her lips, she could not open her eyes right away.

“Does that change your opinion of me?” He asked softly, his voice as gentle as a caress.

Cordelia shook her head. Her eyes lifted, heavily lidded as she could not stop feeling the force of his lips against hers despite the distance between them. “You should… you ought to find somebody else to marry. Leave my mother and I alone.”

Surely, he did not make a habit of cornering women and kissing them. Why was he so interested in her in the first place?

“No, my lady, you are the only one that I wish to make my duchess.”

“Why… Why me?”

“Let us just say that I knew your father,” he answered as his thumb brushed over her cheek, sending goosebumps down her spine.

It was almost as if he made it his job to be as cryptic as possible.

How did he know her father? If that were true, why did she not remember him at her father’s funeral? She would have certainly taken note of a man who looked the way that he did.