Chapter 10 #4
His thoughts were as confused as a pot at full boil, bubbling and spewing. “She has already made her play to get me back on her leash,” he said before he thought how unadvised it was to let Cerys Evans further into his private dealings.
She raised her brows, not in surprise, but expectation. “And?”
“I don’t wish to be on anyone’s leash,” he said.
She searched his face, then nodded slightly, as if she could see he was not lying, neither to himself nor to her. “Then the goal is to torment her with what she missed.”
His voice dropped in pitch as he turned to face her. “And what do you imagine that would be?”
Quite without warning she stepped close, her nose nearly brushing his neckcloth.
He jolted in a breath and almost backed away at the sudden invasion.
He almost snaked an arm around her back to pull her close and erase that last inch of space between their bodies.
She could press her mouth to his jaw if she but raised to her tiptoes. Or press her lips against his again.
“Here is the trick of it,” she said, turning her face up to his. Her breath was sweet, fruit and sugar. “You will have to pretend you approve of me.”
He’d merely need to lower his head and he could taste her again, see if the fruit had lingered on her lips. Feel that heady rush that had swept him away last night. Approval had nothing to do with the cravings she brought to life in him.
“I can prevaricate when the occasion calls for it,” he growled.
Her lips curved in a sweet, saucy smile, and he caught himself bending his head toward her as she stepped away. The cool breeze slapped his face, bringing him out of the sensual haze.
“One question, before we proceed.” She tilted her head to the side, that gesture she made before delivering a barb. “Nicola, Julieta, Francesca, Daniele?”
He blinked. “My sisters.” How did she know their names?
She blinked back. Then she laughed, throwing back her head, loosing a full-throated, joyous sound that made him want to pick her up and twirl her about right there in the dirt-packed promenade.
“Very well,” she said, her eyes dancing with light. “Where are your sisters at the moment?”
“Mamma took them to Leamington Spa to meet with her friends and be out of the way of the builders while I finish the house.”
She nodded. “This will do.”
She was in complete control, and that rankled. He turned them so their backs were to the group as they continued their promenade. Once again she fell into step with him, holding comfortably to his arm, not a weight but a titillation.
“If we are to proceed with this ruse, as you call it, there must be a few rules,” he said sternly.
“Oh?” She glanced up at his face, and the urge to capture her lips was strong. He battled it down and scowled at her instead.
“You are not to kiss me again.”
She affected a pout. “Not at all?”
“Don’t play the coquette with me,” he said firmly. “This cannot be the ruin of your reputation.”
“I am an actress,” she said, her tone offhand. “For some that means I am already ruined.”
“It won’t be because of me. And so I cannot have you throwing yourself at my head. I’m only a man, after all.”
She paused and gave him that curious, searching look. That one he feared meant she could see behind his mask and was studying the workings of his mind. Worse, his soul, or what was left of it.
“What does that mean?” she asked softly.
He dragged her forward, regretting that he had admitted his weakness. “And you must beware how you provoke Bathsheba. She does not like to be thwarted.”
At this she laughed again, but it was a low, crafty chuckle. “Too late. I intend that she will be thwarted, and I won’t be moved on this subject.”
He turned to face her, pulling slightly on her arm, wishing he dared shake some sense into her. “She will hurt you.”
“I am not fragile,” Cerys said. “And I am not afraid of your Bathsheba.”
“You may be a fearless, unheeding wench,” Dante said sternly, “but you can still be hurt. And I won’t have it. Especially if I am the reason.”
She gave him a curious smile, one end of her mouth curving. “Oh, very well. No claws or catfights. But I do intend to tweak her nose a bit.”
“How?”
Her quirk of a smile turned to a full grin. “Ophelia.”
He meant to ask more, but that smile did something to his brain box. Knocked his wits loose and sent them bobbing like little rafts on a river. The full wattage of Cerys Evans’s smile was like standing in full sunlight. He blinked, dazzled.
Mame called behind them, and Cerys turned, tugging his elbow to steer them back toward the group. He followed like a lamb on a lead rope, fully captivated.
She was right about one thing, and wrong about another.
He’d had few defenses against Bathsheba, not at the time.
He had a full suit of armor against her now.
Against Bathsheba and the rest of the world that would mock him, treat him as inferior, or dismiss his abilities before he had been given a chance to prove himself.
But Cerys Evans. He was loath to admit it to himself. It wounded a man’s pride to have his years and not yet be wise. But he very much feared he would have no defense against her.