Free Two Turtledoves by Leah Sanders

But now, alone with the
mud-slinging chit, Baldwyn struggled to master his desire to ravage
her. There, in his grandmother's opera box, while below on the
stage Marcellina demanded Figaro honor his contract to marry
her.
    "So what are your thoughts, your grace?"
    "M-my thoughts?"
    "Yes." She inclined her head. If he was not mistaken,
her golden brown eyes were reading his thoughts that very moment.
Her lips parted and she waited in patient silence. His pulse
throbbed violently in his neck.
    "I—I think… um, what was the question?" Baldwyn
swallowed the lump in his throat.
    "The opera — should Figaro honor his contract with
Marcellina? Or should he marry his love?"
    "Oh." Baldwyn glanced toward the scene below. "He has
made a bit of a cake of things, hasn't he?"
    "He has indeed." Her gaze remained firmly fixed on
his face.
    "On one hand he has a duty to Marcellina."
    "On the other, Susanna holds his heart."
    The click of the door behind them shattered the thick
silence between them.
    "Well, we were mistaken, my dear. That was not Lord
Evansbrook at all, but his younger brother making use of his box."
Marks settled back into the chair on the other side of Lady
Anastasia.
    "I'm sorry it was a wasted trip, Papa." She handed
the opera glass back to him.
    "Not entirely wasted, my sweet. I did discover Lord
Evansbrook intends to accept the invitation to the Kringle
Christmas Eve Ball. So I know he'll be back in Town within a
fortnight."
    "Lovely! Perhaps you should invite the marquess to
dinner upon his return."
    "That's a brilliant plan, my dear. And you shall join
us, Paisley! I would love to introduce you to Evansbrook. He is a
good man to know if you want anything done in Parliament."
    "Any excuse to spend more time with Lady Anastasia,
my lord."
     
    ****
     
    Anastasia glared, not really sure what he meant by
that bold statement. If he wanted to spend time with her then he
wouldn't react to her touch as if she had the plague!
    Spend more time with her? She narrowed her eyes. The
man seemed more likely to drown himself in the Thames before he'd
choose to spend more time in her presence.
    Ignorant boor. Bitterness was an altogether new
emotion for her considering she had taken on life in what one could
describe as blind optimism, choosing to look at the positive
instead of the negative cynicism of the world. Interesting how
easily cynicism caught on when one was shackled to a man who'd
rather speak to her father than her.
    She cleared her throat, a pathetic try for attention.
Baldwyn looked at her and flushed, his eyes widening as they
flickered across her chest.
    "You have, ahem…" He coughed and reddened even more.
"That is to say, a tiny piece of…" He closed his eyes and reached
out to touch her.
    Fearfully she slapped his hand away, which of course,
made him lose balance on his chair, which then caused him to grab
at whatever he could, which naturally ended up being her. With a
squeak she fell on top of him.
    Her father rushed to her aid, but not before
Anastasia caught a glimpse of the look in Baldwyn's eyes. It was
the same look he'd had before he kissed her, only this time it
seemed fiercer, predatory as if an extra second in his arms would
ruin her for life.
    She leveled him with a stare of her own, a challenge,
and accepted her father's hand as she sat back in her seat.
Fortunately, their fall had happened at the exact moment that the
audience had begun to clap.
    "Intermission," her father announced. "I'll just run
and fetch you some lemonade, your grace. You look positively
flushed," he added, and rushed out the door.
    Something like a curse escaped the duke's mouth as he
managed to right himself back in his seat.
    "Apologies," he ground out. "You had a tiny bug on
your gown, and I was endeavoring to remove it."
    "By falling to your knees no doubt," Anastasia
snapped back. "Consider yourself lucky, your grace."
    "Lucky? Hardly," he murmured just under his breath.
She almost didn't catch it.
    "The instant before