The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(16)

Heavens. She was in over her head, wasn’t she?

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. I won’t tell anyone your secret.”

She blinked and attempted to slow her rapidly beating heart. He still held her in his arms, and her soft curves were molded to the contours of his lean body.

“You won’t?”

“And forget my offer to pay you to leave Henry alone.”

“Truly?”

“I want something else from you. What will it take for you to be my lover? Jewels? A Mayfair town house? Name your price.”

A tight knot formed within her stomach. She pushed against his chest and took a step back. “You cannot be serious.”

“I’m always serious. Do not claim you are innocent. Not after your response to that kiss.”

She should slap him. But something about his arrogance sparked her fury. Of course, he thought her sexually experienced. A former thief and daughter of a criminal could never be innocent in his eyes. Why bother to correct him? He’d never believe her. And the kiss had been scintillating…wanton.

Instead, she tried another tactic to dissuade him. “What of Henry? How do you think he’d feel about your proposition?”

His brow creased, and for the first time, she noticed a flash of regret cross his expression. “Do you think I wanted it to be like this? I am supposed to look after Henry, not steal what he believes he wants, but the pull between us is too strong. It may be wrong, illogical even, but I can think of little else.”

She met his gaze and saw raw desire in the dark depths of his eyes that made her gasp. Desire that made her feel stripped of her gown, corset, and shift in an instant. Desire that said he couldn’t go long without tossing her over his broad shoulder and carrying her off to his bed where he would show her all the secret pleasures to be found in his arms.

For a fleeting instant, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist him. Then the reality of what he’d offered sank in.

He wanted her to be his mistress. He didn’t think of her as a lady worthy of marriage. Her traitorous body may shiver at his touch, but she didn’t want what he offered. She didn’t want to be a kept woman. Mistresses didn’t have the security of a man’s name or title. They could be abandoned far too easily and left behind with only a few shiny baubles. Her father had already abandoned her, and she would never stand for another man in her life to treat her the same way. She swore never to be a victim to a man’s whims again.

But a man as arrogant and sure of himself as the Duke of Cameron—Michael—would never understand. He didn’t care if he hurt her or not. He didn’t concern himself about her future or what would become of her when she grew old, or heaven forbid, fell ill. She swallowed hard, trying not to reveal her hurt or her anger. She refused to give him the satisfaction. The sudden need to wound him, just as he’d wounded her with his selfish request, welled in her chest.

“You flatter yourself, Your Grace. I wouldn’t agree to become your lover if you were the last man standing at this party.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? You’re far too old, too arrogant, and too jaded for me.”

Tossing her head, she fled the gardens.

…

Michael stared after Chloe as she fled down the stone path. As soon as he’d arrived at Lady Webster’s garden party, he’d searched for her. When he’d spotted her speaking with Lord Fairchild, a cold knot had formed in his gut. The man had been too damned close, and his hand had rested possessively on Chloe’s arm. Michael’s instinctive reaction had been strong.

Jealousy.

The foreign emotion was as unsettling as it was uncomfortable. He was never possessive over a woman. No one had ever intrigued him enough to care. But Chloe Somerton was magnificent, unlike every other young lady at this ridiculous party. A large part of him admired her grit. The rest of him fiercely desired her.

He’d been right. She was not a virginal miss, and she hadn’t protested when he claimed she wasn’t innocent. Her past was too unsavory, and she was lucky she’d escaped the hangman’s noose. Rather than dissuade him, it only made her infinitely more interesting. He’d found himself hovering nearby in the conservatory tour, interrupting Henry’s attempts to court her.

He was still surprised at his own offer to make her his mistress. The thought had churned in his mind, but he hadn’t intended to voice it until he’d seen her with Fairchild. Now that the offer had been made, he knew it was the perfect solution.

He refused to marry with his condition. The fits were increasing in frequency. But he needn’t worry about a mistress. He’d only see her when he was certain an episode would not occur, and unlike a wife, he could leave at any time. Meanwhile, their shared attraction was strong and mutual. No one would know of their secret liaison.

Michael’s only hesitation was Henry. The young man had his heart set on Chloe, and Michael struggled with remorse. He tried to push his guilt aside. Henry didn’t know about her colorful past or that she was using him for his newfound title and wealth. He believed her innocent, and she acted the part to perfection.

Whatever doubts Michael had that she would make a good match for Henry multiplied after their second heated kiss. Chloe Somerton needed a man who could match her mettle. Not a fawning admirer who would send flowers and read poetry and bend to her every demand. She’d quickly tire of such a companion. No, she needed a man who could tame her wild rebelliousness while unleashing her hidden passion.