Free Beauty and the Duke by Melody Thomas Page B

said, reading her thoughts. “I have given them the perfect excuse to discontinue our association without paying me insult. I find it disconcerting to be in the company of his wife, who thinks I am some monster ready to devour her precious daughter. Honestly?” He raised a brow. “It is a relief to carry on a conversation with someone who is not afraid of me.”
    He didn’t seem relieved. He sounded cross.
    She had never been afraid of him, despite what other people thought of him. She respected a man who could go against the grain of society and accomplish what he had done, caring not a fig that in the process he had greatly angered the mainstream. In many ways, he reminded her of Aunt Sophie.
    But respect did not always equate to admiration and she would be a fool not to be cautious where he was concerned. After all, because of him, she had left England a long time ago.
    “You have not given me your answer,” she said.
    “Why don’t we continue to talk about your qualifications instead?” His smile was not kind, yet neitherwas it cruel. Only curious. “How close were you and Darlington? Were you too disappointed that he wed that pretty blond assistant of yours?”
    “Of course not. I hope they are happy.”
    “You are good friends then.”
    “Yes, of course. Why would you think otherwise?” What did any of this have to do with her qualifications?
    “Is that why you want to cut him out of any find you might make when you know he is as desperate for recognition as you?”
    “He has an opportunity in Perth.”
    “Yet, you know I can give him a better one in Fife.”
    He was right, of course. Though Christine had not seen the other fossils, if they were anything like the tooth, they, too, would be a magnificent discovery. But this was her discovery.
    Erik leaned forward, placing his face in the pale amber light. “Then do not for one moment think you and I are not alike in the pursuit of our goals, Christine. We are both selfish.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “We are both willing to sell our souls for a price. Only I did it a long time ago and have become more adept at the game. You are just beginning your journey. Or are you?”
    “You’re…mad!”
    He laughed. “Aye, that is what they say. But that is not why you left England ten years ago. Is it, now?”
    Her heart racing, Christine recognized too late the trap he had set for her.
    “I did not run away from you. I walked. Surely, ye do not still hold that against me?” she mimicked his slight Scottish brogue.
    “Ah,” he said quietly, amusement in his eyes. “But that does not explain why ye came back just one more time, now does it?”
    “I should think what happened between us that night would explain it with clarity.”
    “Just one last fook for old time’s sake? Was that it?”
    Christine had forgotten just how far away from him she had run to forget him. Leave it to him to bring out the worst in her. She had never struck a person in her life, but she was suddenly balling her fist, prepared to give him a facer he’d never forget. He caught her wrist in midair. She would have struck him with her knees if she could have moved against the weight of her skirts. Her inability to defend herself only amplified her feeling of vulnerability and defeat and made her more furious. Until she had finally spent herself and he was no longer restraining her as much as he was using his weight to hold her in her seat.
    Aware of a sudden burn behind her eyes and his breath against her temple, she lifted her chin.
    She expected to see only anger equal to hers in his eyes, but in his dark expression, she saw something else entirely, something that reflected back into her own eyes, primitive and all-consuming. Recognizing that they were both capable of such violence frightened her.
    “It is well and good that we finally clear the air between us, Christine,” he breathed against her mouth.
    Her lips parted, but whether in protest or invitation, she knew not.