Dusky Duke and the Gypsy Pirate Princess Read Free

am not a duke?” Greyson’s voice held a hint of humor.
    “Well,” her voice held the same humor, “Dukes do not usually hold court with the buckflowers. . . Although, you do have a certain arrogance about you.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him gently back as he leaned forward.
    They both knew that he was standing on the line of proper behavior. His hands and everything else were kept to himself, and he was not touching her, but his closeness was questionable. They both knew she could not get down off the wall without making an issue of it. He smiled; her hand lay warm against his heartbeat. He leaned back giving her space.
    “You have no desire to meet a duke and have him fall madly in love with you at first sight?” Greyson teased, he was sure she was playing with him at this point. She had after all recognized him in the ballroom.
    Her hand fell away from his chest. Greyson leaned closer and the hand returned to its place against his heart.
    “Heavens, no,” she gasped. “Why that would make the whole situation unbearably complicated. I should hate to break the poor man’s heart.”
    “You would turn him down?” Greyson laughed in disbelief.
    “Why does everyone think that a girl would marry someone simply because he is a duke? I, myself, cannot imagine being married to a dusty old duke. Besides, he would not have me,” she stated as a matter-of-fact.
    “Why would you say such a thing?” Greyson’s voice held his unbelief at her words. He could not imagine anyone not being drawn to this charming lady.
    She considered his question. “I am not duchess material. I do and say outrageous things. I think the rules of polite conduct are silly at best. I shan’t like the idea of governesses raising my babies, or sending my children away to boarding school, or my husband having expected mistresses. . . ” and then she laughed in delight again. “We have only known each less than an hour, and already we have me married and committing murder on some poor fictional duke.”
    Greyson dropped his eyes to his boots. His mind tried to wrap around what she was saying. She acted like she did not know who he was. “Why did you ask me to dance?” His eyes moved back to her face.
    She adjusted the hand she had laid on his vest uncomfortably and pushed to back him up a bit more. “I saw you dancing with the lady in yellow. You seemed to be an excellence dancer.”
    Greyson realized she was talking about his sister. “And that was the only reason?” he prompted.
    “Well,” the young lady blushed slightly under the mask, “You were the perfect gentleman and not ogling her bosom.”
    Greyson threw back his head and laughed; the sound came from deep in his chest and rolled merrily across the pond and the garden surrounding them. She smiled at him in response. “This is a problem you often have?”
    The young woman adjusted her seat self-consciously and nodded, “It is worse because I am too tall.”
    Greyson’s eyes could not help but slid toward the aforementioned area of discussion. He quickly pulled his eyes back to hers. She was indeed nicely endowed. Greyson smiled to himself, he would have noticed earlier if he wasn’t so taken by the laughter in her green eyes.
    He realized she was holding her breath waiting for his response. “You are not too tall, you are perfect,” his voice was a caress. Their eyes locked and the moment held.
    The young lady abruptly jerked her eyes from his, and pushing forward moved him away while at the same time jumping nimbly to her feet on the bridge. “We should be getting back, now,” she stated her voice a little breathless.
    Greyson nodded, and went to take her hand, but she pulled it away.
    Grey approved of her actions even as he disliked them. He was glad she didn’t let strangers hold her hand in moonlight, summer gardens, but on the other hand he felt the need for contact, an assurance that she wasn’t a dream.
    “I should like to see you again.”
    His