Page 60 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

His gaze lingered on her. His eyes roamed over her body. She felt the fabric clinging to her skin, aware of how little was between her skin and his presence. For one breathless moment she wondered whether he might say something that would change everything between them.

Is he going to kiss me? Will he ravish me right here?

Instead, he merely said, "Would you like a drink to help you sleep?"

She smiled faintly. "Yes, Pierce."

She watched him cross the room. Margaret pressed one hand against her chest and frowned at her racing heart. Maybe she had been wrong. Perhaps the thing inside her that felt unfinished had nothing to do with dislike at all, and that possibility was considerably more frightening

He reached for the decanter and poured a measure into a glass before crossing the room towards her. The firelight caught the hard lines of his face as he approached, softening them only slightly, and Margaret found herself staring before she could stop herself. He was undeniably handsome in a rugged, rather intimidating fashion, with broad shoulders, black hair, and those impossible eyes that seemed even more striking in the dimness of the study. His cravat was untied and hung loose from his neck.

Pierce held out the glass. "You look as though you have discovered something interesting," he remarked, his mouth curving with amusement. "See something you like?"

Margaret nearly choked on her own breath. "Of course not," she replied quickly, taking the glass from him. "I was merely thinking that…that the fire needs tending."

His eyebrow rose. "The fire?"

"Yes. It looks rather neglected, and there is a chill in here."

With that, she saw his eyes shift to her breasts. She knew that, without question, her nipples were protruding from the thin fabric. A blush rose on her cheeks.

"I see." His expression suggested he knew exactly what he meant by that.

He walked past her and put another log on the fire before settling himself upon the large chaise lounge near the hearth.

After a moment, he glanced towards the empty space beside him. "Are you going to stand there all evening?"

Margaret hesitated before crossing the room and sitting next to him. The chaise was large enough to keep a respectable distance between them, though somehow she remained acutely aware of him. Pierce leaned back, one arm resting along the back of the seat, and took another sip of his brandy.

"You are very quiet," he observed.

"I am drinking."

"You manage to argue while drinking perfectly well."

Margaret glanced sideways at him. "I am tired."

"Tired but unable to sleep," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her for a moment too long.

She looked down at her glass, suddenly fascinated by it. Being alone with Pierce was becoming increasingly exciting because she was beginning to discover how much she enjoyed being near him.

And that is a far more troublesome problem than being unable to sleep. So why do I not return to my room?

CHAPTER 15

Does she know she drives me mad in that nightdress?

Pierce remained beside Margaret on the chaise, acutely aware of the dangerous intimacy of the moment. The study seemed quieter than before, the fire burning low while the rest of Ravenfield House slept, and he found himself noticing every small detail of her, the warmth in her cheeks, the softness of her expression, the way her fingers curled around her glass as though she needed something to anchor her.

"I've realized I never thanked you truly for helping me escape Harrowby," she said.

"Harrowby was a nuisance I was pleased to remove. I never thanked you for keeping your word to marry me instead."

Margaret glanced at him with a faint smile. "A nuisance?"

"A particularly persistent one," he replied.

She laughed softly, and the sound struck Pierce with absurd force. He looked away for a moment, annoyed.