The Spinster and the Duke (10 page)

Miles crossed his arms, biceps bulging beneath the thin fabric of his rolled sleeves. “No.”

A woman more prone to temper would have lashed out with a curse, but Dianna had learned at an early age to contain her emotions. Ice burned longer than fire, and it was to ice she now resorted, drawing on the bitter coldness that surrounded her heart to give her the strength she needed to face the one man capable of melting her.

“Lord Radnor, I do not know what you hoped to accomplish by coming here tonight, but I can assure you your presence was neither anticipated nor welcomed. In short, I do not want you here. I do want to speak to you. I do not want anything to do with you.” Clinging to the last shreds of composure she possessed, Dianna dared to lift her chin and meet his gaze, wanting him do know he no longer had any effect on her.

At least none she was going to willingly show.

“Step aside and let me pass,” she demanded. “You have embarrassed yourself enough for one evening, don’t you think?”

Green eyes unblinking, rugged countenance hard as stone, Miles held his ground and Dianna’s bravado began to falter. For the first time she considered that she was standing in the dark with a veritable stranger; she may have known the boy Miles had been - or so she thought - but she knew nothing about the man he’d become. What lengths would he be willing to go to get what he wanted?
Dangerous ones
, she thought with a shiver as she caught the steely glint of determination in his gaze and the hard clench of his jaw.

Seeking another tactic to free herself before her resolve to remain aloof crumbled completely and she fell to pieces, Dianna mustered a thin smile and said, “Please, Lord Radnor. Let me return to the manor. There really is no need to make this more uncomfortable than it already is. If you came here to tell me you have returned to England, then by all means please consider your deed accomplished and let me go.”

For a long, tense moment she thought he would ignore her request, but with a mocking bow he stepped rigidly to one side of the path. “As you wish,
Miss
Foxcroft.”

Lifting her chin until the tiny bones at the nape of her neck ached for release, Dianna glided past him, careful to take tiny, ladylike steps even as every muscle in her body screamed at her to sprint up the hill, find the nearest closet, and lock herself within it.

A lady never hurries. A lady is always patient. And a lady most certainly
never
locks herself in closets.

“This is not over.” Miles may have spoken quietly, but his words carried through the night air and reached Dianna nevertheless. “What is between us, it’s not over. Not yet.”