Tall, Duke, and Dangerous (Hazards of Dukes #2) - Megan Frampton Page 0,57

supposed to be her friend. Her brother’s best friend, someone she could count on. Not someone to whom she had to edit her conversation. The whole point of being friends with a taciturn gentleman was that one got to say whatever one meant.

But now, now that there was all of this, started by the kiss, or even earlier, when they’d first danced the night she’d appeared in her silver gown, when it seemed as though he’d finally noticed her, and not as the best friend’s sibling.

Now there was discomfort, and awkwardness, and she’d be damned if she let it continue.

“Onto the terrace,” she said, edging her way through the crowd. There were far too many people, however, and after a few moments he took the lead, barreling through anybody who dared to stand in their way.

Showing his arrogant brutish self in all its glory.

Something she should not admire, given how arrogant and brutish he was behaving now, but she absolutely did.

Darn her, and darn her contradictory ways.

As soon as they were on the terrace, she took the lead again, moving past the couples in conversation to a nook with a large tree whose hanging branches afforded more privacy. She headed for the bench on which they had sat before, although as she saw it again, it didn’t look large enough to accommodate—

“Oof,” she said as he sat down beside her. He had his legs spread out, as though to keep himself from falling off the edge of the bench, and she suppressed a laugh. She did not think he would want her to laugh at him.

“What is it?” he grumbled. “Why did you drag me off the dance floor? I just want to know what the rotter plans to do with you.”

“And that is the problem,” Ana Maria replied, nudging him sharply with her elbow. He made a surprised noise, then fell onto the stone terrace.

That couldn’t have been comfortable.

He didn’t get up, just sat there glowering at her. Far less effective when he was on his arse on a terrace looking up rather than scowling down. She should remember that for the next time they argued.

“You don’t have a say in what I do. Or if you do, then you need to tell me precisely why you have a say in what I do. If I choose to go look at Lord Brunley’s wretched horses, I will and can choose to do it.” She lifted her chin. “I told you before”—when we kissed—“that what I do is my decision alone. I have decided that I will be in charge of what I do. Even if I make mistakes,” and she froze as she realized how he might take that, “and I will, but they will be my mistakes. It’s just what you do, isn’t it? Make your own decisions all the time? It’s the privilege of being a duke, after all.”

It felt good, to unleash her frustration on him. He didn’t deserve all of her ire. That would only be deserved if all the gentlemen who’d sent her flowers while craving her dowry were in attendance as well.

“I admire that about you,” he said slowly. “Sometimes it feels as though my choices aren’t made by me, but by who I am—a duke, my fath—” He stopped speaking abruptly, and she wished more than anything that he had kept talking.

And then he started talking again, only now his tone had changed.

“So you want to do precisely what you want to do? With nobody telling you otherwise?”

His lips were twisted into a faint smile, as though he was aware of what he was saying—and what he might actually be saying.

She took a deep breath. “You said we shouldn’t—”

He cut her off before she could finish. “I don’t want that. Not unless you do. It’s your choice, Ana Maria.” He was still on the ground, his hands flat on the terrace behind him, leaning back as though it was a perfectly comfortable place to sit.

It made it look as though he was a supplicant asking her for something. For that.

It was a heady power, making it feel as though she had drunk a strong alcoholic beverage, one that slid through her with an insidious speed, making her light-headed and fearless and wanting all at once.

Her body felt tingly, as though he were touching her.

It’s your choice, Ana Maria.

He’d touched her breast before. She craved that again. And more.

She stood suddenly, holding her hand out to him. “Come,” she ordered.

He took her hand