Darian Hunter: Duke of Desire (Dangerous Dukes 3)

‘I believe I have only been stating the obvious, madam.’ Darian arched a challenging brow.

‘Which is that you consider me entirely unsuitable as a focus for your brother’s infatuation?’

‘I would go further, madam, and say that I find you entirely unsuitable to occupy any situation in my brother’s life.’ Darian’s mouth thinned disapprovingly at the realisation that he now found himself in the position of being attracted to this bewitching woman. A woman, he had discovered during the course of the past few minutes, totally unlike any other he had ever met.

Mariah Beecham was undoubtedly a dazzling beauty and it was impossible for a man’s gaze not to admire the rise and fall of those voluptuous and creamy breasts. But he had discovered, as they danced together, that she was far more than just a beautiful face and a desirable body.

Her forthright manner, and her obvious contempt for him, was a refreshing change after the years of women simpering and flirting in his company, in a bid to secure his attention and in the hopes they might one day become his duchess.

Mariah Beecham was obviously a mature and sophisticated woman. A wealthy and independent woman more than capable of making her own decisions as well as bringing up her young daughter alone. Moreover, the countess was a woman who made it perfectly clear that she would do it in exactly the way that she pleased.

That sophistication and independence of will was having the strangest effect upon Darian’s libido. Indeed, he found himself becoming aroused by her to a degree that he acknowledged his shaft had risen, and was now painfully engorged, in response to the desire he was currently feeling towards her.

Which had not been his intention when he came here this evening. Darian’s only desire had been to protect Anthony from the woman.

His jaw tightened. ‘I will leave willingly, and gladly, madam, if you will first consent to cut my brother loose from your enthralment.’

Mariah’s breath caught in her throat at this man’s temerity in continuing to insult her after having come to her home for the sole purpose of upbraiding her, in regard to what he considered her encouragement of his brother’s attentions to her. ‘I believe you must address any such remarks to your brother, rather than to myself, Wolfingham.’

‘Anthony is too besotted with you to listen to reason.’

‘That would seem to imply that you have tried?’ she taunted.

Wolfingham’s mouth thinned at her mockery. ‘I do not appreciate your humour on the subject, madam.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘And I, sir, do not in the least appreciate the insulting manner in which you have chosen to address me this evening.’

‘Then it would appear we are at an impasse,’ he drawled coldly.

Mariah’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you will excuse me— Let go of my arm, Wolfingham.’ Her warning was dangerously soft as she looked first at those long and elegant fingers currently wrapped about the top of her arm, before raising the coldness of her gaze to stare challengingly into the duke’s grimly arrogant face.

Darian had not meant to so much as lay another finger upon Mariah Beecham, not when he was already far too physically aware of her. His action, of reaching out to clasp her arm, had been purely instinctive, a reaction to the fact that she obviously intended to walk away from him.

Something he found he did not like in the slightest.

‘I believe we would be better continuing this conversation outside on the terrace,’ he bit out grimly as he maintained his hold upon her arm long enough to cross the ballroom and step outside on to the deserted terrace.

He released her arm as abruptly as he had earlier grasped it, before placing both of his hands behind his back and clasping them together as he looked down the length of his nose at her.

‘How dare you manhandle me in that way?’ Mariah Beecham gasped her outrage at finding herself alone outside on the terrace with him.

‘I believe you will find that I dare much in the protection of my impressionable younger brother, madam.’ Darian looked down at her coldly. ‘Most especially so when I have good reason to believe a woman such as yourself could never have any serious intentions with regard to a man as young and inexperienced as Anthony.’

‘A woman such as me?’ she repeated softly.

Darian nodded tersely. ‘We must both be aware of your reputation, madam.’

She eyed him coldly. ‘Must we?’

His gaze turned frosty at her tone. ‘That reputation apart, you were married to a man at least twenty-five years your senior and now you are dallying with a man at least ten years younger than yourself.’ Darian gave a shrug. ‘Perhaps it is that you are afraid of entertaining the attentions of a man of your own age?’

Mariah knew that this man could have absolutely no idea of the unhappiness she had suffered during her years of marriage to the much older Martin Beecham; they had both taken great care, for their daughter, Christina’s, sake, to ensure that society did not learn of their deep-felt dislike of each other.

As for her dallying with this man’s younger brother? It was pure nonsense. The young Lord Anthony had certainly received no encouragement from her, in what Wolfingham now claimed was his brother’s infatuation with her.

Truth be told, Mariah did not have a serious interest in any gentleman, her marriage to Martin having soured her towards spending too much time in the company of any man, let alone trusting her emotions, her heart, to one of them. In her opinion, all men were selfish and controlling. And she had no intentions of being controlled by anyone ever again.

Certainly not Wolfingham!