Celeste Bradley - [Heiress Brides 02] by The Duke Next Door Page A

disobey.
    “Since I am not a cruel woman, I will not force you to go through with such a scandalous mistake.” Her slight smile was as cold as ice. “I shall see you at breakfast, my lord.”
    He bowed shortly, then turned on his heel and left without another word. Only when the door was closed behind him did Deirdre ease her aching fingers apart.
    Meggie crawled out from under the bed. “If he thinks I’m coming to bloody breakfast, he really is mad,” she announced furiously.
    “Perhaps …” Heavens, it was becoming quite clear to Deirdre now. He didn’t want to eat alone. This insight broke her heart just a tiny bit, but she could not allow him to jump off the hook quite so easily. She matched Meggie’s earlier smile at supper. “That is too bad,” she said, “for it should be most amusing.”
    OUTSIDE HER LADYSHIP’S bedchamber, Calder stopped to run a hand over his face. As he had thought so many times in the last two days …
    That did not go well.
    Except of course for the fact that he’d won. Hadn’t he? She’d agreed to do as she was told, this once, anyway. So why the shamed ball in his gut? It was a simple enough request, to breakfast and dine like a family.
    But you didn’t request.
    He blew out a frustrated breath. He didn’t have the
time or inclination to wrap every damned sentence in pretty words. He was a very busy man. He’d spent many years now accustomed to issuing—
    Barking.
    He felt a growl rise in his throat. Issuing commands and having them carried out forthwith. There was no reason to change his ways just because some female decided it dented her tender sensibilities.
    He retreated to the masculine haven of his study. He had matters, important matters, waiting for him to arrange. He could not allow this madwoman to deflect any more of his attention from them.
    A short time later, Calder looked up from his papers when he heard something slide under his study door. He saw a quickly moving shadow against the light in the hall and heard light running steps. He crossed the room and knelt to retrieve a small paper-wrapped package from the floor.
    On the outside were scrawled the words “For Papa.” He quelled a sigh at the deplorable penmanship and unfolded the scrap. Inside was a chunk of something brown with … were those nuts? And a bit of lint, apparently. It looked like something his groom might clean out of a hoof, but it smelled … wonderful.
    He considered the possibility of poison, then decided that Meggie, being Meggie, would never be so obvious. Then it occurred to him that Meggie, being Meggie, might realize he would think that and therefore would—
    He shook his head against the cascade of suspicions and decided to take the gift as a gift. If Meggie wanted to harm him, all she had to do was to continue in her current rebellion.

    He took a tiny, careful—he wasn’t a fool, after all—bite of the concoction. Buttery chocolate pleasure filled his senses. It was only the best toffee he’d ever had, not that he’d indulged often. It tasted like it came from London’s finest confectioners—yet he knew that none of the staff would defy his rules to buy such a thing for Meggie.
    But she would.
    He tossed the package onto his desk and stalked back to his seat. The bloody-minded females in this house were going to be the death of him, poison or no! He forced his attention back to the matter at hand, refusing to waste one more moment on those fomenting rebellion right under his nose.
    After a long moment and several unread pages, he allowed his gaze to slide back to where the toffee sat so innocently in its crude wrapping. His fingers twitched. No. He would not be sweet-talked by sweets! He would not be manipulated. She had obviously put Meggie up to such an endearing act in hopes of wheedling something from him. He could not encourage such behavior.
    The scent of decadent pleasure teased at him. Abruptly, he snatched the toffee up, blew off the lint, and popped it into