“Yes, well, we all have a great deal on our minds,” she muttered, pulling Sophy into her parlor and closing the door.
Then, as if she could truly avoid the impending encounter, she continued on to her bedchamber, crossing the floor to stare out the window.
“Do you want me to inform the Duke you’re not receiving?” Sophy asked softly.
Leonida wrapped her arms around her waist. “You are welcome to make the attempt.”
She kept her gaze trained on the distant lake that reflected the fading sunset in muted hues of pink and violet. The beauty spread before her, however, went unnoted as the sound of Sophy’s raised voice echoed through the air, followed by Stefan’s low, composed response.
A grim smile touched her lips as Sophy continued to squabble. The maid was a ferocious protector of Leonida, but she was no match for the Duke of Huntley. He might hide his ruthlessness behind a quiet charm, but it made him no less perilous.
Indeed, he was by far the most dangerous gentleman she had ever encountered.
At last, Sophy fell silent, her anger turned aside by Stefan’s calm, unyielding determination. There was the sound of shuffling feet, then a door closing. Leonida remained poised at the window, a tingle of excitement inching down her spine as Stefan’s spicy male scent filled the room.
“I thought we had put an end to your little games, my dove,” he drawled, his footsteps coming ever closer.
“Games?”
His slender fingers closed around her upper arms, forcing her around to meet his smoldering gaze.
“You cannot avoid me.”
“Obviously not,” she snapped, refusing to acknowledge the thrill of pleasure that darted through her body. “What have you done with Sophy?”
His gaze seared over her stubborn expression. “I requested that she join the other servants so she could enjoy her dinner. It hardly seems fair that she should suffer because her mistress is a coward.”
“I am not a coward, I am simply tired. And since you are so concerned for my maid’s welfare I assure you that I requested that two trays be sent up, so there was no fear she would be sent to bed hungry.”
His lips curled into a humorless smile. “Ah yes, the trays.”
“Is there a problem?”
“Not now. I informed Cook that she need not bother since you would be joining Lady Summerville and myself in the dining room.”
“Are you so high-handed with all your guests?”
His fingers skimmed over her lips, which had thinned in annoyance. “Only those who insist on being unreasonable.”
She struggled to breathe. His dark, compelling beauty was overwhelming. Irresistible.
“It is hardly unreasonable to desire a quiet evening.”
“It is when I want your companionship,” he countered, his fingers stroking the line of her jaw.
“And because you are a duke you always get what you want?”
His smile widened with genuine humor. “I always get what I want because I refuse to accept anything less.”
She licked her dry lips, then swiftly wished she hadn’t when his eyes flared with a raw desire that made her heart leap.
“You cannot force me to come down to dinner.”
“Actually I could,” he mocked. “But if you insist on eating in your bedchamber then I will simply join you.”
“Have you taken leave of your senses? You cannot join me.”
“Why not?”