Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,154

from other men, yes. Safe from herself? Definitely not. She wanted to kiss Cecil Hale.

A moment later, she heard Wellough enter Restive’s dressing room. After several seconds’ pause, he trod onward to the bedroom. He didn’t exclaim in surprise, which meant Charles Dufair had made his escape.

Cecil eased them from behind the curtains, took her by the hand, and led her toward the corridor. He opened the door a little way. Stealthy footsteps sounded, then the closing of a door. “Now’s our chance.”

So much for kisses. He would escort her to her bedchamber, where she would crawl into her cold bed. She resigned herself to warming it with more shameless imaginings.

They hurried silently along the dark corridor, past the all too revealing light at the head of the stairs, and onward to her chamber. He opened the door and stood back to let her pass.

Then he followed her inside and shut the door behind him.

She turned, astonished and…excited. Heavens, how forward of him. Was he perhaps a little attracted to her after all?

No, he was frowning. “I have no designs on your virtue, but we have to talk.”

How stupid of her to think he might want her. Firmly, she reminded herself that what interest he had shown was nothing but a charade. Now he wasn’t the least bit lover-like. His mien was forbidding, his voice stern. He didn’t want to kiss her at all. He just wanted to talk.

So did she, as a matter of fact. She wanted to know what was going on—after she’d had a chance to kiss him. But that wouldn’t happen, so she said, “How dare you come into my room?”

“Don’t be missish.” He went over to the fire, stoked it a bit and added a log, and lit a candle. He turned, an ill-tempered crease between his brows. “This is a serious matter. I want to know why you were in Lord Restive’s dressing room this afternoon, and why you were in his bedchamber tonight.”

She put up her chin. “That is none of your business.”

He ignored that and went relentlessly on. “Even if you didn’t intend to entrap Lord Restive” —his sardonic tone said he didn’t believe her— “then why did you arrange to spend Christmas here despite your mother’s plans? Don’t give me the same story about avoiding Lord Forle.”

How dare he? “That story, as you put it, is true. My mother would have found a way to catch me alone with him by underhanded means, since I wouldn’t go near him of my own volition.”

“I daresay,” he said dryly, “but you didn’t have to come here to avoid him. You certainly didn’t have to go to Restive’s bedchamber to avoid him. You didn’t have to lie to me about your feelings for Restive—” He stopped in mid-sentence. “You’re right, that’s none of my business. If that’s why you came here, just say so, and I’ll...accept that explanation.”

She balled her fists. He would accept her explanation? He had no right to demand anything of her, much less to judge her, just because he was Papa’s minion and her sometime minder. How horrid of him to imagine she’d hoped to seduce their host! Next he would scold her, just like Mother. Dorothea’s erotic imaginings dissipated like smoke, leaving a sullen trace behind, a reminder of a far from extinguished fire.

Perhaps that lingering desire was why she felt compelled to defend herself. Her fingers uncurled of their own accord. “I didn’t lie to you. I would scorn to trap Restive or any other man.”

“No,” he said with an unamused laugh, “you have so many suitors that you could choose one by the mere lifting of a finger.”

“Yes, and it’s horrid. Do they see nothing but this pretty face?”

Chapter Seven

Ordinarily, Cecil would have been embarrassed at his gauche comments, which revealed too much about his own feelings. Fine, he would wallow in mortification later, but for now he must concentrate on his mission—rather than her high color, her quickened breathing, and her ripe, kissable lips.

She wrapped her arms around herself as if aware of his lascivious thoughts. He ordered his libido to desist. “Your beauty is so extraordinary,” he said gruffly, “that they don’t see past it to your intelligence and genuine concern for those less fortunate.”

Her lips parted, but she said nothing. Did he detect a softening in her stance? Perhaps, but he mustn’t soften in return. He had a job to do. “Unfortunately, this is nothing to the point. I repeat: why did you come