An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,66

her head knew better, Amelia’s foolish heart panged with disappointment that he wasn’t attempting to pick up where they’d left off. With his lips on hers. “Why are you sitting there?”

“In case you attempt to distract me and escape.”

She arched a brow. “Wearing nothing but a wet shift and a blanket?”

“I didn’t say it wouldn’t be thrilling to watch,” he answered dryly.

She snatched up one of the pillows from the bed and threw it at him. It smacked him in the chest.

With a low chuckle, he tucked it behind him and eased back against it.

She cinched the blanket tighter around herself. “All comfy, are we?”

“Very. But a man needs to be comfortable in a situation like this.”

A warning prickled at her bare toes. “What situation is that?”

“Finishing our conversation from the shop.” He leaned forward, knees on elbows, and narrowed his gaze on her. “And you can start by telling me what you wanted with Charles Varnham at the masquerade.”

Sixteen

Pearce waited for her to begin, not moving a muscle. He wasn’t bluffing. She wasn’t leaving this room until she told him what he wanted to know. Starting with Varnham.

“Well?” he pressed.

Amelia crossed her arms. “No.”

“No what?”

“No, I’m not telling you anything.”

Damnably stubborn woman. “You know, you were a lot more cooperative when I was removing your clothes.”

Even in the dim light of the fire he could see her face flush. The sight was pure temptation.

Knowing she was practically naked beneath that blanket didn’t help. He squirmed uncomfortably on the chair and tried again. “Why are you so interested in Varnham?”

“Why did you follow me out of the ball tonight?” she countered.

“Because rescuing you has grown into a habit. What did you want with the man?”

“Only to talk to him. Why did you follow me?”

“Because I’ve grown fond of your neck.”

She frowned with faint bewilderment, her hand going to her throat and the old locket that hung there. “My neck?”

“I knew it was only a matter of time until you put it at risk. Again.”

She angrily dropped her hand away. “Very funny.”

“If those men had caught us tonight, no one would be laughing.” Men he was certain were connected to Scepter. Men who’d wanted to kill her. He pinned her with a hard gaze. “Tell me, Amelia. What did you want with Varnham?”

“Well, an unmarried miss should never pass up a potential husband,” she quipped. “Sometimes a woman has to take matters into her own hands.”

Unease tightened in his gut. She might have been teasing about wedding Varnham, but something about the way she said it contained a deeper truth that prickled an icy warning at his nape. “It won’t work.”

“What won’t?”

“Attempting to distract me with jealous thoughts of you with Varnham.”

“Well, thank goodness for—”

“Because he’ll never court you. You’re not his type.”

She twisted a damp curl around her finger. “Blond?”

“Intelligent.” When her eyes flared, he added, “That sharp mind of yours can run circles around Varnham. He’d never let himself be shown up by a woman. Even one as beautiful and alluring as you.”

Her lips parted slightly at the compliment, and for a moment, she was speechless. Good. The last thing he wanted to discuss was potential husbands for her.

“Is that why you keep embracing me?” she challenged softly once she found her voice. “Because you find me beautiful and alluring? Or are you attempting to distract me into giving you answers?”

No. That was the last thing. “Not at all.”

“Yet you keep doing it.”

A smug grin curled his lips. “Because you seem to like it.”

She sniffed with mock offense. “It was the excitement of nearly being caught in Devonshire’s closet, that’s all.”

“And in your shop? No one was there to catch us then.”

“Temporary madness.” Then she folded her arms over her chest, once again assuming that obstinate pose in which she’d begun this argument.

Damnation. He was getting nowhere by sparring with her like this, and time was running out. Flanking the enemy and hoping for a break in the line wasn’t working. It was time for a direct assault.

He accused bluntly, “Varnham is connected to the trust, isn’t he?”

She tensed, her breath catching so hard in startled surprise that he could hear it. But she managed to rasp out, “I don’t know what you mean.”

No, he wouldn’t let her dissemble so easily and pressed, “What did you hope to gain from him? Help in delaying the trust if I turned out to be on your brother’s side?”

“If I don’t answer,” she tossed back, once again picking a fight, “will you

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