Chapter 4

Alice supposed that it was simply not done to explain to a man just what she intended to steal from him, but there was something about the man before her that made her want to spill all of her secrets.

He was quite probably used to having women fall all over themselves, really. She was quite adamant that she did not join their ranks.

She raised her chin defiantly. "A book."

He raised an eyebrow. "A book?"

"Yes. You might have heard of books—they have a cover and pages and words written on them?—"

"I am not an idiot. I know what a book is," he snapped.

"Oh." Alice bit her lower lip. "I suppose you should, seeing as you are in possession of this, er, particular book…"

"And may I ask, what is this mysterious book that is presumably in my possession?"

She could tell that he was hanging onto his patience by a thread.

"Well… it is a French book originally," she hedged. "I heard you had a translated version of it…"

"What. Book?"

She hung her head and finally spit out the title of the tome she had been looking for.

"La Philosophie dans Le Boudoir."

Almost as soon as she said it, Alice wished she could take it back. The Duke of Thorns looked at her with his mouth agape, clearly shocked, before he managed to compose himself.

"I did not realize that libertine novels are now de rigueur for gently bred young ladies of the ton."

"They are not. I just heard of it and thought I should see for myself what the furor is all about."

He seemed to accept her answer as he drew back just the slightest fraction.

"Say that you wanted to borrow such a scandalous work from me," he said in a cold voice. "That still does not explain how you managed to sneak into my estate."

"Oh." Alice smiled sheepishly. "I merely borrowed my maid's old clothing and posed as a new maid."

The Duke winced. "Clearly, I need to have a word with my staff if someone like you can just slip in unnoticed."

"Oh, please do not!" she cried out in alarm. "I would not want anyone to get in trouble because of me!"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled roguishly at her. "Is that so?"

She nodded emphatically. "I knew it was wrong, and I should not have done it."

"And now you are most contrite. I somehow like this side of you."

He stepped closer, and Alice gulped. "Y-you do?"

"Oh, I do. Very much." Another step and then he flattened his palms on either side of her, his arms and body effectively caging her in. "But for trespassing, you still need to be punished, my dear."

His voice held both a silken threat and a heated promise that warmed her blood and flooded her cheeks with heat.

She gasped and turned her head to the side. "W-what are you going to do to me?" she stammered. "Are you going to eat me?"

"Eat you?"

She nodded. "My sister is adamant that you are a beast who preys on the flesh of people. Not that I think it is possible, of course, but?—"

"Oh," he drawled silkily. "But your sister was right, little lamb."

"She was right?"

"Oh, yes." He grinned wickedly at her, his gaze dropping to her heaving bosom. "And right now, there is nothing I want more than to taste you…"

She looked up at him, caught in the searing heat of his gaze. Somehow, she had an idea that he did not mean to tear into her flesh in the way that a cannibal would.

But rather, there was the promise of something so fascinatingly lewd in his threat, and she was reminded once again that the man before her was nothing like the other gentlemen in her acquaintance.

This was the Duke of Thorns, a member of the Wolves. She would do well enough to stay away from him.

* * *

She was so close that the heat that emanated from her skin was scalding him. The scent that rose from her hair, from her very skin, had wrapped its tantalizing talons around him, ensnaring all of his senses until all he could think of was undressing her.

Devouring her.

He could feel her shudder, and he knew that this time, it was not fear. He could see the desire bright in her green eyes. He could see how her bosom rose and fell with her shallow breaths.

He reached out and wrapped a dark lock of hair around his finger. If he gave it the slightest tug, he could tilt her face up for a kiss. Perhaps a single taste would not hurt, merely sate his curiosity…

He immediately dashed that thought.

"What is your name?" he asked her softly instead. "I would have the name of the one who attempted to rob me in my own estate."

She gulped again, and he was once more tempted to press his lips to her delicate neck and taste her there.

"I am Alice Barkley, Your Grace," she murmured. "My father is the Marquess of Brandon."

The Marquess of Brandon—yes, he was familiar with the name. He had also heard that the man had fallen ill a few months back.

"And why would Lady Alice Barkley be looking for such a book in my estate, of all places?" he continued to question her. "I am certain that your mama would have warned you well enough against associating with… persons with a certain reputation."

She sighed and looked slightly petulant. "You are right—she indeed warned me about you and the Wolves. So did my friend Scarlett."

"And still, you find yourself in my bedchamber." He grinned. "I would like to know more about this fascinating story."

Her eyes clouded over with sadness and despair. "You might have heard that my father has fallen ill."

He nodded and continued to toy with the lock of hair twined around his finger. "Indeed, I have."

"Well," she sighed, "this is going to be my third Season, and I still have no prospects. Papa has given me an ultimatum—either I bring him a husband in three days' time, or he will select one for me."

"And you mean to read such a book to, ah, educate yourself on your wifely duties?"

Somehow, he did not like the idea of her in the arms of another man. The image of her naked body beneath that of a glorified dandy made his blood boil.

She shook her head and burst into woeful laughter. "Oh, dear God, no. I merely meant to have one last adventure before… before I am married off and become a boring old lady, whiling away the rest of my years on earth with such mundane atrocities like planning dinner parties and the like…"

"How absolutely torturous," he drawled. "But now, here you are in my private chambers with nary a chaperone in sight. What do you think the gossips would say about that, hmm?"

She gawked at him. "You… are not going to tell them, are you, Your Grace?"

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I might be persuaded not to—but this scandal will be much too delicious to resist, I gather. Imagine, a young lady such as yourself, alone in a room with a libertine like me. If they ever find out that interesting bit about your search for a particular book, why… the possibilities are endless."

"You—you would not dare!" she gasped in horror. "I would be ruined. My whole family will be ruined. My sister?—"

He pretended to look affronted. "And what about me, My Lady? Propriety would demand that I marry you."

He said it with such scorn because that was how he truly felt about the whole ordeal of matrimony.

Lady Alice Barkley, however, appeared to find the prospect just as abhorrent as he did.

"You would not want such a thing, I assure you!" she declared emphatically. "Your Grace, you must know that I have no redeeming qualities?—"

Oh, I could think of two redeeming qualities, a voice in his head whispered as his gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts once more. Very redeeming qualities, indeed.

"Well, I can be persuaded to keep your secret…" He pretended to consider her pleas with a magnanimous expression on his face.

He watched as her shoulders drooped. "What… what would you have me do?"

Triumph welled within him, sweet and bright. He had her right where he wanted her.

"Nothing too scandalous, I assure you," he reassured her.

"I sincerely hope not!"

"I might even let you read the book," he added.

She looked up at him in pleasant surprise. "You will?"

He nodded. "Of course, you are forbidden to take it out of this estate—and you must only handle it in my presence."

She pouted again, and he felt the keen urge to plunder her lips once more.

"I suppose I can do that." She squared her shoulders and looked up at him resolutely. "Very well then, what do you want me to do for you?"

Oh, the myriad possibilities!

But he had to shelf those lewd thoughts for another day.

He grinned at her and leaned closer as he stated his terms.

"A fake betrothal between the both of us—nothing too long, I assure you. Thirty days will do."