Free When Seducing A Duke by Kathryn Smith

“I’m a guest of the Duke of Ryeton,” she told the doorman who received her. He moved aside and let her in without question. He handed her a key as she passed. Rose didn’t look at it until she was at the foot of the wide sprawling staircase. The fob attached had a room number on it—the very same room they had shared the week before. Clutching it tightly in her fist, she climbed the stairs to the suite and let herself inside.
    Would he come?
    She sat on the edge of the bed and took off her gloves.
    Would he come?
    And then, hopeless fool that she was, she waited.
     
    She wore a mask again.
    This one was a deep, rich chocolate satin that matched her gown and complimented her hair and complexion. Grey didn’t mind that she chose to conceal herself from him again. He had worn his mask as well, but then he always did the few times he risked being seen in public.
    “I didn’t think you’d come,” he said as he closed the door to the private suite behind him.
    She rose from where she sat on the side of the bed, the snug gown hugging every curve, the tiny sleeves threatening to slip from her exquisite shoulders. “I almost didn’t.”
    That was a little honesty he could do without. Then she added, “I assumed you had surely changed your mind, and so I thought to save myself the disappointment.”
    Changed his mind? He could no more do that than ask night not to fall. There had been no question as to whether or not he would keep his part of their bargain. He couldn’t have stayed away if he’d wanted to. His will simply wasn’t that strong.
    “You do not know the strength of your charms, madam.”
    “I do not doubt my own attributes, sir, merely their ability to hold the attention of a man such as yourself.”
    “And what kind of man is that?”
    “A man who prefers to make assignations with women whose names he doesn’t know.”
    Grey laughed. He wasn’t the least offended by her, in fact he found her honesty as amusing as it was bold. “The same could be said of you, madam.”
    “I do not think so, Your Grace.”
    He stilled as he hung his discarded coat on the rack in the corner. He only had to turn his head the barest inch to see her. She stood, hands clasped together in front of her, shoulders back as though waiting for him to do something.
    “You know who I am?”
    She nodded, hands clasped in front of her. “I do.”
    Moving away from the coat rack, Grey moved toward her, keeping every step measured, every move careful. “You know the stories about me, then?”
    Another nod. “Yes.”
    “And yet here you are.”
    “Here I am.” She held her arms out slightly at her sides, a gesture of supplication if ever he saw one. “Are you surprised?”
    “To be honest, yes, I am.”
    She smiled then, the lush bloom of her mouth curving invitingly. “Perhaps it is you who underestimate your charms, Your Grace.”
    “Don’t call me that.”
    “What would you have me call you?”
    Darling. Lover. Best fuck ever. “You may call me Greyden.”
    “All right.”
    “And what may I call you?” He couldn’t really call her “mine.” Could he?
    “Whatever you wish.”
    “You have my name but refuse me the same confidence? Why?”
    “Because you have a reason for your mask, Greyden. And I a reason for mine. Give me whatever name you wish.”
    “Rose. I will call you Rose.”
    Was it his imagination or had she froze, just for a second? Of course she had. He was an ass to make such a suggestion. If she knew who he was, then she no doubt knew who Rose was as well. “As you wish.”
    Grey held out his hand. “Come here.”
    She did, slipping into his arms as though she belonged there. “Mine,” he whispered roughly against her ear. “That’s what I want to call you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d made such a declaration, but it was the first time he’d ever meant it.
    She pushed against his shoulders, angling herself so she could look into his eyes. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
    “I