On the next turn, he pulled her close, till her breasts brushed his chest. The friction, as brief as it was, rasped her nipples. She gasped then quickly clamped her mouth shut, trying to put some distance between them. But he was in full control, his large frame engulfing her, his intimidating presence swallowing her with each turn.
“Your dress is quite beautiful on you.” He ignored her question entirely. “So much more appealing than your gray frocks.”
“What is wrong with my frocks?”
“They’re hideous.”
She gasped. “My frocks are entirely suitable to a woman of my role in society.”
“And what role is that? An old crone?” She caught his mischievous smile. He was goading her. And it was working.
“An unmarried woman. The town’s schoolteacher.”
He scoffed, slowing their waltz. “You think yourself a spinster at three and twenty? I think not. I’m going to burn every one of them when I get the chance.”
“Your Grace. You will do no such thing. You have no right to destroy any of my possessions.”
He grinned and slowed their forward movement to a stop, drawing her even closer. She tried to step from his embrace, but he held her good.
“Your Grace?”
“I’m not quite sure you know what’s happening between us, Miss Snow. But let me be clear. Those hideous rags are not worthy of your luscious body. Not worthy of you. You may try to hide your beauty behind drab colors and formless frocks and tight buns. But I see what’s beneath. And I want—no, I will have you in all your glory. Therefore, prepare yourself to be draped in silk quite soon.”
She saw the lion in the man, gazing down at her with steadfast calm and confidence. All of which was breathtaking and alluring. She spent the majority of her life trying to order and control her surroundings, only to find her world tilted at every turn. She wondered how the duke would feel to lose his control.
“It must be very difficult,” she said.
“What must be difficult?” He swept her away from clumsy Mr. Powell, who nearly barreled into them with his dance partner.
“Believing that you own everyone you meet.”
“You wound me. I don’t believe that at all.”
“Really? You just stated as if it were a decree that I’d be draped in silk. What if I don’t like silk?”
His smoldering smile made her knees buckle. “Come now, Miss Snow.” He leaned close to her ear, his lip brushing the shell as he whispered on the turn, “If not a silk dress, how about silk sheets?”
She laughed, his naughty teasing bringing a heated flush to her face. “You’re most improper for a royal duke.”
“Thank you,” he said with a smirk. “I do my best.”
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
“It most certainly was.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Well, whatever you may believe, I’d like to clarify that you do not own me, Your Grace.”
“I don’t want to own you, kitten. I want to possess you.”
“There is no difference.”
“Indeed. There is.”
Eyes darkening and hooded in shadow, she caught them drifting over her face before they landed on her mouth. His own parted slightly.
“Your Grace,” she warned, “if you are making plans to kiss me on the dance floor, let me tell you that it will not be welcome.”
“All right. Will it be welcome in my carriage on the way home?”
She arched her brow. “Are you always so forward with ladies you’re trying to woo?”
“No. Indeed not. I’m usually much more charming, but you seem to bring out the beast in me, Miss Snow. I’d rather skip all the games and get straight to the prize.”
