She cocked her head. The ribbon tied beneath her chin glinted dully in the light. “Have I said something wrong?”“No."“I have.” She stepped closer. “You are the most inscrutable man I have ever met.” He laughed. No mirth at all. “I’m quite serious.” She studied him. “No.” Her quiet voice lanced through him. “Don’t look away. Not when I am about to understand you.” “Are you certain you wish to?” He held her gaze, and the silence of his hunting box became unendurable. He fixed in his head an image of her in his bed. Nude. And of him, there to touch, and taste, experiencing that moment when his prick slid into her body. Her. Not any woman, but her. Specifically. The woman who made him see beauty where he’d once seen only duty.
Carolyn Jewel, In the Duke's Arms
historical-romance, romance