Page 61 of Stolen and Seduced By the Duke

I should not be so affected by something as innocent as her amusement.

When he looked back, he found her watching him, and the warmth in her eyes made restraint considerably more difficult.

Margaret's smile widened. "You did not need to thank me for not abandoning you at the altar."

Pierce's mouth twitched. "That was worth mentioning."

"I have had quite enough adventures involving altars and didn't want to add another marriage incident to my list."

"I should hope so."

She laughed again. Pierce looked at the delicate fabric of her night dress as it caught the firelight, making her seem softer, more vulnerable than the spirited woman who had once marched into a smoking room full of gentlemen and demanded that someone ruin her reputation. He remembered that woman vividly. He remembered the challenge in her eyes and the reckless courage that had drawn him towards her before he had understood what he was doing.

Now she is my wife.

The thought should have been reassuring. Instead, it was intoxicating.

Pierce tightened his grip around his glass. He had spent years mastering himself, controlling his temper, his appetites, his impulses. Yet Margaret had somehow slipped past every barrier he had built. She did not merely attract him; she unsettled him. Every smile, every sharp reply, every glance seemed capable of stripping away another layer of his composure.

"You are tense," he observed.

Margaret looked at him suspiciously. "I wonder why."

"Have I done something?"

"You have merely been sitting beside me so close."

"That appears to be enough?" he asked.

"It is," she admitted, then immediately looked annoyed with herself for saying it.

Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Should I move?"

She hesitated. "I…I do not know."

He did not move. Neither did she.

Instead, Margaret swallowed and looked towards the fire. "You make my body behave strangely."

Pierce went still. She seemed horrified by her own confession and hurried to add, "Maybe… I am becoming ill."

Despite himself, a low amusement stirred in him. "I assure you, Duchess, you are not ill."

"How would you know?"

"Because I know exactly what is causing it."

Her eyes returned to his. Pierce slowly lifted one hand. He gave her ample opportunity to pull away, but she remained perfectly still as his fingers brushed lightly against the side of her neck. Her breath caught, and the reaction sent a fierce surge of satisfaction through him.

"Does that make the symptoms worse?" he asked quietly.

Margaret's lips parted. "Yes."

He traced his thumb gently along her skin, watching the color deepen in her cheeks. "And that?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Pierce felt his restraint fraying. He wanted to draw her closer, wanted to discover how far that trembling composure would carry her, but he forced himself to remain controlled.