Taming of the Beast (Scandalous Affairs #2) - Christi Caldwell Page 0,9
person. He reached a hand out to fondle her, and Faye recoiled.
With an effortless glide of his elbow, Mr. Wylie struck the fellow hard in the arm, sending him sprawling.
The man lay there, knocked on his buttocks, and then with a shake of his bald head, he stumbled to his feet and wandered off, dazed.
“You were saying?” Mr. Wylie drawled, picking the dirt out from under his nails.
Faye whipped her gaze to the drunken brute who’d attempted to assault her. And that was when she knew—he might fight her, but he would help her. “I wish for us to speak about our arrangement,” she said softly.
“Our arrangement?”
Faye nodded.
“We”—he slashed a hand back and forth between them—“do not have one. Neither formal nor informal.” Then understanding lit his eyes. “Ahh,” he said, rocking back on his heels.
She frowned, already knowing she shouldn’t ask, but unable to help herself. “What?”
“You’re looking to have me warm your bed, kitten?”
Despite the unforgiving cold of the night air, a blush warmed her neck, face, and bosom. Not for reasons he’d likely expect, however. Kitten. It was a grating endearment that he no doubt intended as an insult.
Donning a scornful look of her own, she passed her gaze over him, mimicking the look he’d turned her way before. “Of course not. Do you truly believe I’d go through all the trouble of getting a man out of prison because I wanted him in my bed?” She didn’t allow him a chance to answer. “Why, if I were searching for a lover, it would have been a good deal easier choosing someone who was not locked away at Newgate and who—” She sniffed at the air, and frowned.
“What is it, sweet? Expect I should be stinking like sewage from my time locked up?”
Actually, she had. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from saying as much.
He chuckled. “My reach within Newgate is great enough to afford me those simple luxuries,” he said, apparently needing no confirmation to have ascertained precisely what she’d been thinking.
Oh, the smug bounder. Refusing to let his ego swell any more than it already was, she gave a little toss of her head. “Stench or no stench, Mr. Wylie, I’d still not bother with a lover who’d just left Newgate with such a heavy scruff upon his cheeks.” It was another lie. She found herself oddly… enthralled by that light beard.
The faintest of grins grazed his hard lips. Why… he was amused by her insulting him.
He was a peculiar specimen indeed. And as one who’d been so similarly called by the world, she rather appreciated the unconventional man before her.
Refusing to play this game with him any longer, Faye rubbed her chilled fingers together in an attempt to warm them. “Now, for the matter of our dealings—”
“Tell me, what makes you so sure I’ll honor any terms? Particularly as I’ve not agreed to them, hmm?” he murmured. This time, the finger that had stroked the fur lining of her hood moved deeper under the fabric to caress the curve of her jaw. The scandalous touch should have roused fear, but stirred only a heated flutter low in her belly. “You are, after all, the one who freed me before I agreed to anything.”
That callused digit continued its exploration higher, along her cheek and to the shell of her ear.
Then he edged her hood back the minutest fraction, enough so as to leave her identity concealed, but far enough that she felt the sough of his breath upon her skin.
Odd, she should expect a man who’d been locked up should be in need of a brush. But this man…didn’t. Tynan’s breath contained a trace of mint and brandy; oddly intoxicating together, those scents.
That combined with his nearness, continued to stir the heat within. Unbidden, she recalled the wicked book she and her sister had pilfered from their brother that had contained etchings of men and women, sometimes more than one of each, interlocked in intimate embraces.
Another cold, hard grin curved Mr. Wylie’s lips, revealing surprisingly even rows of pearl-white teeth that gleamed in the night. He was a veritable wolf set to prey on the unsuspecting Red. He leaned a fraction closer, his mouth sliding nearer.
Faye’s breath caught, stirring a little cloud of white, a ghostlike whisper of desire that should have shamed her, but instead intrigued.
“Y-you wouldn’t do that.”
“And just what wouldn’t I do, kitten?” he purred, his thumb and forefinger closing hard about her chin.