Page 29 of Duke with a Desire

“Oh?” He kept his face expressionless, and it occurred to him then that he wasn’t wearing his half mask, but Theodora hadn’t seemed surprised at the confirmation of who he was. She hadn’t even so much as blinked. “And who would be better suited?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say.” Theodora moved to the chairs and seated herself in the one nearest to him.

“I’m equally sure you could.”

She laughed, and even her mirth was measured and intentional, her smile too large. “Naturally, I could offer myself as a candidate. However, I would far prefer to occupy my time in…other ways.”

The seductive intent in her voice was unmistakable.

“No doubt there are a host of gentlemen in attendance who would be happy to be of assistance,” he said pointedly, and then he dove beneath the water, swimming to the other side of the grotto before he had to reemerge for air.

When he broke the surface, Theodora was where he had left her, casually seated in a chair as if she’d received a personal invitation to view him. Not for the first time, he wondered at the wisdom of the Wicked Dukes Society founding members that they would have chosen an innocent lamb like Ophelia to lead this den of vipers. Life had not yet left her hardened or embittered, and her own kindhearted nature had already rendered her easy prey.

By God, it was a good thing indeed that he was here, to watch over her. Those bastards may as well have thrown a kitten into shark-infested waters.

Anger simmering along with the frustration within him, Apollo swam the length of the pool again. When he burst through the water, Theodora’s voice found him.

“You are more agile than a fish born to water.”

He ignored her and swam to the opposite end as if she hadn’t spoken. Perhaps if he carried on and pretended as if she weren’t there, she would go away. Several laps went by, and the stubborn woman was still seated in the chair. Every time he broke the surface, she attempted to make conversation, and without fail, he acted as if he hadn’t heard a word and went back beneath the water.

He was winded and his unwanted audience was still firmly entrenched in her chair by the time he finished swimming. It would seem he’d have to emerge at some point. Theodora was likely to stay the rest of the morning, if given the chance.

With a sigh, he heaved himself from the water, straightening to his full height on the slippery grotto rocks.

“I suppose you would like to dry off now, wouldn’t you?” she purred.

He noticed she’d absconded with his towel at some point during his avoidance session. It was now folded neatly in her lap, as if she expected him to trot over to her like a bloody dog and beg for it. Apollo wasn’t in the mood for more games. Indeed, he wasn’t in the mood for anything other than Ophelia, naked in his bed. He would keep her there for days. Perhaps even weeks.

To Theodora, he said, “I reckon I can walk back to my bedchamber dripping. The housekeeper is likely to be horrified, but water dries.”

“No need for that.” Theodora rose and swept toward him, bringing the towel. “Let me assist you.”

“The towel should be sufficient, madam,” he said, extending a wet hand to receive it.

“Wouldn’t it be more comfortable if someone else did it for you?” The suggestive smile she sent his way was one that doubtlessly turned the brains of the men in her circle to porridge.

She was a lovely woman, yes. But she wasn’t the woman he wanted, and she never would be. That distinction was Ophelia’s and Ophelia’s alone.

“No,” he told Theodora. “It wouldn’t.”

“Nonsense.” She moved nearer. “Allow me. It’s the least I can do in return for your understanding and grace yesterday at naughty portrait painting. It was quite good of you to humor our hostess by suggesting she was the winner, even if we both know my portrait was far superior.”

“On the contrary,” he defended Ophelia, “I truly found her effort the most skilled.”

Theodora looked taken aback. “She gave you horns and a tail.”

Apollo grinned, recalling Ophelia’s daring. She was bold, and he admired her all the more for it.

“I thought they suited me quite well,” he said, his tone flippant.

Theodora faltered. “I… Surely you jest, Your Grace.”

He plucked the towel from her grasp. “I am deadly serious.”

“But…but…”

She was sputtering now. He was certain Theodora wasn’t accustomed to rejection. She was beautiful and experienced, her reputation preceded her, and no doubt any of the other men in residence would leap from the roof for a chance to bed her. He, on the other hand, was positively unmoved. She was a serpent, and like all such creatures, slithered about seeking sun and warmth for herself wherever she could find it.