The Duke Meets His Match (The Infamous Somertons #3)(7)

She buried the bitterness his accusation stirred in her heart and tried to reason with him. “How can I assure you that my past is long forgotten? We have all started a new life. I have no intention of hurting Henry. I truly like him.”

“You like him?” His expression was mocking.

Her stomach fluttered at the coldness in the duke’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Then send him away. Discourage his interest. Set your feminine trap for another unsuspecting man.”

Another surge of anger made her breath burn in her throat. Who was he to pass such quick judgment? A man born in luxury, an aristocrat whose place in the ton was guaranteed from the day of his birth, a duke who was one step below royalty.

He’d never known hunger or cold or prolonged illness because he couldn’t afford medicine from the apothecary or care from a physician.

She pushed a wayward tendril of hair away from her cheek. His eyes followed her movements, making her uneasy. “I won’t be bullied. Both Huntingdon and Vale will protect me.”

She was bluffing. Her sisters didn’t know of her past exploits to get the money they’d so desperately needed, and she had no intention of telling them. Her brothers-in-law had no idea, either. It was a secret she planned to take to her grave.

The duke’s knowledge of her past was her weakness. A chink in her armor.

Sipping his drink, he leaned back in his chair, a confident expression on his handsome face. “Then you will force me to reveal the truth about your past. The entire truth. Would you put your family through such a trial when all you have to do to protect them is discourage one suitor?”

She met his hard eyes without flinching. She refused to be bullied by him. She was a fighter. A survivor. “I won’t do it. And you shall keep my secret.”

His eyes flashed. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because Henry has already suffered from the death of his father. Telling him my past will only cause him further undue distress.” She might be uncertain about how far the duke would go to ruin her, but she knew he’d promised Henry’s father that he would look after his son. If she were lucky, that responsibility would extend to Henry’s emotional well-being.

Cameron’s eyes narrowed, and he lowered his glass. “A worthy opponent. You fascinate me, Chloe Somerton.”

“You make it sound as if you are never challenged.”

“Challenged, yes. Defeated, never.” He took her empty glass from her and set it aside on an end table, then brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “Still, I admire your spirit. You must know you’re a beautiful woman, and I suspect you are accustomed to using everything to your advantage.”

She gasped at his touch, and her awareness of him heightened. Her thoughts spun at his smoldering gaze. He thought her beautiful? She knew her fair looks and blue eyes attracted men, but to hear it from him made her shiver.

“You’re blushing, Miss Somerton.”

She touched her heated cheek, and her lips parted with a scathing retort, but he raised his hand before she could speak.

“But it’s not your looks that draw my attention,” he said. “It’s rare to find someone who isn’t intimidated by me, either as a duke or as a military man. You are a rare exception.”

Trapped by the intensity of his stare as much as by his words, her heart stuttered in her chest. “Forgive me if I find your words not as complimentary as you think they should be.”

His lips twisted in a cynical smile. “Exactly my point. You have spirit, and I like a challenge.”

What on earth was he saying? She nervously nibbled her bottom lip, and his eyes dropped to her mouth. She felt an undeniable tug of attraction.

Ridiculous. She hated the man.

“How much will it take, then?” he said.

Her brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

“How much? Five hundred pounds…a thousand? I’m a wealthy man. Name your price.”

She sucked in a breath as realization struck. “You think to pay me to stay away from Henry?”

“You are an astute woman,” he drawled.

“You’re jesting.”

“I never jest.”

She rose to her feet and smoothed her skirts. He immediately stood. “I shall see myself out,” she said.

She turned, but his hand snaked out to grasp her wrist. “Not yet.”

Her eyes widened at the contact. His hands were calloused, his tapered fingers firm. A warrior’s hands. She experienced a shiver of apprehension and, heaven help her, excitement, from the leashed strength in him, the mysterious depth of his eyes, and the warmth of his skin.

“Sit,” he said. “We have not finished our business.”





Chapter Three


The touch of Michael’s fingers on the slender bones of Chloe’s wrist sent a jolt of lust to his brain. Her breathing was rapid, and her breasts rose and fell temptingly against the neckline of her gown. Her full lips parted, and he knew she felt the undeniable attraction as well.

Chloe yanked her wrist away, and he reluctantly released her. “I don’t want your money or anything you have to offer,” she said coolly. “As you’ve already observed, I’m not like most women.”

No, she wasn’t. She was infinitely more interesting.

He sipped his whisky, savoring the expensive alcohol as much as the woman seated across from him. Despite what he’d said earlier, he was surprised by Chloe Somerton’s unchaperoned, late-night visit. He was rarely surprised by people’s behavior. One of the things he’d learned as a military officer was to study the patterns of his enemies and attempt to predict their next move. He’d become good at it, and other officers looked to him for strategy and planning. People were no different. Until Chloe Somerton had reappeared.