Page 29 of It's All About the Duke
“You’re still as overly confident,” she countered.
“You’ve been given too much freedom to speak your mind.”
“Yet it impresses you that I do.”
“It does,” he admitted, his gaze remaining on her face as he leaned even more into her. “Your eyes are still as big and bright as they were when you were twelve.”
Oh, he wasn’t making it easy for her senses or her strength. She tightened the muscles in her hands and arms and held steady against his pressing weight. “I was ten.”
“Your hair was unruly.”
“It was uncombed.”
“You held a frog.”
Marlena didn’t know how much longer she could defend herself. He was strong and he kept leaning harder and harder against the package. “It was a toad,” she assured him.
The duke’s brows squeezed closer together and the corners of his eyes narrowed. He straightened but didn’t step away. “Good Lord, can you really tell the difference in the two?”
Marlena laughed a little. Her arms relaxed as his weight left her. She realized they were trembly from trying to hold her own with the duke—with dialogue and somewhat with strength, too.
“Actually, I can. Toads’ legs are shorter and their skin is thicker and tougher than a frog’s.”
“I know the difference, Miss Fast. I’m just surprised you do, but I don’t suppose I should be.”
She relaxed. “I’ve always liked to read. I especially enjoy reading about gardens and all the things that grow and live in them.” Fond memories washed over her and she smiled. “It was my cousins who helped me develop a joy for being outside. They insisted that before I could play with them I must catch a toad. Several frogs later, my aunt had mercy on me and told me the difference between the two.”
“It sounds as if they little imps, but you didn’t mind.”
She nodded. “They were and no I didn’t mind.”
“And apparently you like reading about rakes, scoundrels, rogues, and—” He hesitated.
The duke seemed to be searching for the other word in the title of her book so, she said, “Libertines.”
“Yes, that’s it.”
A fluttering started in her chest and moved up into her throat. Marlena didn’t want to question him, shouldn’tquestion him, but her natural curiosity wouldn’t allow her to stay silent.
She had to ask, “Did you read the book?”
“Not yet.”
That admission piqued her tremendously.
Not yet?
“You asked for a copy to read,” she said hesitantly, trying not to sound petulant or even inquisitive.
She considered it downright shameful that he hadn’t bothered to open the book after he’d asked her for a copy. He’d had it a week—almost. She had no doubt he could breeze through the pages in less than an hour if he’d simply take the time to sit down and do it. Even if he were a slow reader, which she was sure he wasn’t, because he was so fast with his wit.
So why hadn’t he? Other than to irritate her.
“I’ll read it one day,” he offered casually.
One day!
She was miffed again. Affronted even. If he were holding the book right now she’d rip it from his grasp. How dare he ask for a copy ofherbook and then not have themannersto read it.
