Page 69 of An Unwanted Bride for the Duke
His gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” She stepped forward. “You lecture me about womanizers while half the unmarried ladies in London sigh whenever you walk into a room. How many have you entertained? You are impossible,” she said, shaking her head at him.
“And you are blind.” Damien took another step closer, his gaze never leaving hers.
That stopped her. “What?” Her head snapped up, indignation flashing across her face.
“You heard me,” he replied, his jaw tightening slightly. He moved another step closer. Too close. Far too close.
“You see a handsome face and a charming smile and that is not who he is,” he said.
She glared. “And what do you see?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
“A man who enjoys attention,” Damien replied, folding his arms across his chest.
“So do you.” She lifted a brow and tilted her head.
“I do not.”
The lie was so outrageous she nearly laughed.
“You absolutely do. You dove into the pond today simply for the spectacle.” She gave an incredulous shake of her head.
For one brief second, amusement flickered in his eyes. Then it vanished. “He will hurt you,” he said quietly, taking another step towards her.
Something about the certainty in his voice made her hesitate. Only briefly.
“You do not know that.” She lifted her chin defiantly, refusing to retreat even as her pulse quickened at his nearness.
“I do.” Damien’s expression was unyielding.
Frustration bubbled inside her.
Why does he care? Why is he standing here? Why is he making this difficult?
“You do not get to decide who I speak to,” Seraphine said, her fingers tightened around the folds of her skirt.
His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth. The movement lasted less than a second. Yet her pulse stumbled. The corridor suddenly felt smaller. The air felt warmer. She hated that she noticed. Hated it.
“You should leave me alone.”
His eyes lifted back to hers. “Should I?” he asked. His voice had changed; it became thick and husky. He leaned toward her. The movement was unhurried, yet it sent a ripple of awareness through her entire body.
“Yes.” Seraphine locked eyes with him, though her voice came out less steady than she would have liked. She hated that he was close enough for her to catch the faint scent of sandalwood and brandy.
“Even if I am right?” His gaze searched her face, lingering far too long on her lips before returning to her eyes.
“You are not.”
His mouth twitched. “Stubborn.”
She scoffed and rolled her eyes, though her pulse betrayed her by quickening. “You have some nerve.”
“And you have a remarkable talent for ignoring good advice.” His voice dropped lower as he leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her, effectively trapping her between him and the opposite side of the corridor.
Heat rushed through her. She took a step back only to find there was nowhere to go. Her breath caught as his gaze darkened, and for one dangerous moment neither of them seemed capable of looking away.
The corner of his mouth almost lifted. Almost. Then he moved closer again. Seraphine's breath caught as the space between them shrank, far too quickly and far too easily. Every sensible thought vanished. Her pulse thundered. She should step away. She knew she should. Yet somehow, she remained exactly where she was.
