Page 52 of Caught By the Ruthless Duke
“Isn’t it?” They turned together, the movement bringing them closer than propriety allowed. “You commanded me onto this floor. You told me I belong to you. What precisely did you mean, if not ownership?”
Theodore’s grip tightened on her. “I meant that watching other men look at you makes me want to commit violence. That seeing you smile at half a dozen young buffoons earlier made my vision narrow. That every time you walk into a room wearing that damned dress?—”
“The dress you chose,” she interrupted.
“Yes.” His voice dropped. “The dress I chose because I remembered you mentioning emerald was your favorite. Because I can’t seem to forget a single word that leaves your mouth, no matter how hard I try.”
Cressida stumbled. Theodore’s arm tightened, keeping her upright.
“You’re infuriating,” he said.
“And you’re impossible.” Her pulse raced beneath his touch. “One moment, you avoid me as though I carry plague; the next,you’re dragging me onto dance floors and making declarations about ownership.”
“I wasn’t declaring ownership.”
“What would you call it?”
His jaw clenched. “Protection.”
“I don’t need your protection from a waltz.”
“Don’t you?” His gaze dropped to her mouth before jerking back up. “Half the men in this ballroom are wondering how I trapped you into marriage. The other half are wondering if the scandal sheets were accurate about what happened at Ashmere.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “And dancing with you is supposed to convince them otherwise?”
“Dancing with me demonstrates that you’re mine.” The possessive growl in his voice made her breath catch. “That no other man has any claim to you whatsoever.”
“Except you don’t want me,” Cressida heard herself say. “You made that abundantly clear.”
Theodore’s eyes blazed. “You think I don’t want you?”
“You’ve spent weeks avoiding me.”
“Because wanting you is dangerous.” His hand slid fractionally higher on her waist. “Because every time I’m near you, I lose the control I’ve spent seventeen years perfecting. Because you make me feel things I swore I’d never?—”
The music swelled toward its conclusion. Around them, other couples completed their final turns with graceful ease.
The final notes faded.
Theodore released her with visible effort, stepping back. “Thank you for the dance.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing on the edge of the dance floor with her heart racing and unfinished confessions burning between them.
“Cressida, darling!” Lady Bardwell descended with the subtlety of a cavalry charge, her husband trailing behind. Both appeared to have reached the smug phase of parental achievement.
“Mama. Papa.” Cressida curtsied with automatic courtesy.
“Where is the Duke?” Her mother scanned the ballroom. “I simply must express our gratitude for his generosity.”
“His Grace is occupied at present.”
“Of course, of course. Important men, always so busy.” Lady Bardwell adjusted her reticule. “Though you might mention to him when convenient that your father has recently invested in a rather promising venture with Lord Hawthorne.”
Lord Bardwell nodded sagely. “Indeed. The opportunities in shipping are quite remarkable. I was just telling Hawthorne that the Duke might find it of interest?—”
Neither asked how she was managing. Neither inquired about her adjustment to married life. They simply discussed their own concerns as though she were merely a convenient conduit to ducal favor.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Cressida said when her father paused for breath, “I see my brother across the room.”
