“He's rich, handsome and dangerous. You like that."She smiled at the uncharacteristic lack of self-confidence in his tone. "My dear duke. You are rich, handsome and dangerous."His lips lifted on one side. "I would never describe myself as dangerous.""Could you maybe stop talking? I'd like to kiss you but your lips won't stay still."Eyes twinkling, he pressed his lips shut. Finley smiled and guided his head down to hers.”

“Slowly, Finley rose from the sofa, tilted her head back and looked him dead in the eye. “I have no desire to be any more in your debt than I already am.”He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Would it make you more comfortable if I demanded something in return? Would that put you at ease?”When he put it like that, it made her sound like an awful sort of person for thinking the worst. “It would, yes. At least that would be honest.”It might have been laughter that came scoffing from his throat, but there was little humor in it. He shook his head, the light reflecting glints of russet in his hair. “I’d like to meet whomever it was who made you so distrusting and pull his teeth out one by one.”The vehemence in his tone startled her, yet was strangely warming. “’Twas more than just one.”His face darkened, like clouds overtaking the sun. Suddenly, this was no longer just some seemingly kind, bored aristocrat standing before her, but a young man capable of many dangerous things.”

“...you shouldn’t have put yourself in that kind of danger for me.”He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye—she knew this because she was doing the same to him. “If not for you, then for whom?” he asked softly.”

“What I want from you,” he said, and Finley braced herself, “is your trust. Irrevocable and unshakable. I want you to put your life in my hands, and I want to be able to do the same without hesitation.” Disturbed to her very soul, Finley could only shake her head. “You ask too much.” Put his life in her hands? He was deranged! A bedlamite for certain. A crooked grin curved his mouth. “Too much? You strange and wonderful girl, that is the least I’ll ask of you.”

“I reckon that's the one thing you and I have in common - we both care about Em."She gave him a small smile. "And we both have naturally charming dispositions."His lips curved a little at her sarcasm. "That, too.”

“Finley’s head jerked up. Griffin King. The Duke of Greythorne. She had overheard Lady Alyss discussing him with several of her friends just last week. They said he was handsome, rich beyond understanding and had a nice bottom.”

“Finley hesitated. Maybe he’d move out of her way and let her pass.Or a voice in her head whispered—her voice—you could kick his teeth in.”