and she glanced over her shoulder with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
He had learned that her smile could dazzle him. Never had a woman had the ability to manipulate him so easily.
Odd, that he didn’t even mind.
The drapes in their secluded dining room had been pulled open, revealing glimpses of the mews. A starry sky hovered over the stable and a few empty carts.
“It’s possible I’m going to miss Gretna Green.” He lifted a lid off of one of the dishes and then glanced up. She’d removed her fichu and…
Shadows from the candlelight danced on more creamy skin than she ought to be showing in public.
“What—?” He swallowed hard, unable to detach his gaze from her bosom, most of which she’d decided to put on display tonight.
A very generous display.
“You seemed to appreciate them earlier, so...” She glanced down, trying to look innocent but failing. “Amazing what one can do with a corset.”
“You don’t have to—” He broke off, all but choking. This—those--were not going to help his situation whatsoever.
“I know I don’t have to.” She smiled prettily, dipping a serving spoon into the stew before rising and then leaning forward, scooping it onto his plate.
Just a few hours ago, he’d had his face buried between them. Stone poured two glasses of wine and tipped most of his into his mouth, his gaze trapped by twin alabaster globes of femininity.
Annulment. They were going to have to get an annulment.
Tabetha served some onto her own plate and then dipped her fork into the sauce. As she lifted it to her mouth, however, a small morsel of beef dislodged and fell onto the plump swell of her left breast.
It rested just shy of the edge of her bodice. One wrong move, he suspected, and she’d expose the rosy skin that blossomed around upturned, puckered nipples.
She dropped her gaze, and then her eyes widened. “Oops.” She used her index finger to scoop it off her flesh, and then slowly…
So damn slowly…
She slipped the meat, along with the tip of her finger, into her mouth.
When she slid it out, her lips made a soft popping sound.
Why did he need an annulment?
He adjusted his trousers, a little surprised the table wasn’t levitating, and forced himself to focus on the food.
“What else did you do while I rested?” Her words broke into his haze of arousal. She was pointing at the side of his face. “That looks new.”
“Oh,” He touched the side of his jaw. “Just a few friendly boxing matches.” He’d won. Winning had come in handy. Not that his pockets were empty, but he hadn’t intended on this little sojourn lasting as long as he had, nor had he planned on purchasing a new wardrobe for the wife he’d not intended to marry.
Fighting had been an easy way to refill his pockets for their journey back to London.
“Did you have fun?” She lifted a strawberry to her lips and just held it there.
“Fun?”
“With the other boxers?”
That was one way of putting it. He nodded and averted his gaze away from her mouth.
Only to have it settle on the flesh swelling up from her gown.
“Er…yes.”
“Did you win?”
Stone forced his attention onto his plate, deliberately slicing a knife through a cut of meat. “Of course.”
She laughed, a delicious womanly sound.
“Do you always win?” The little minx was teasing him. It was high time he regained the upper hand with her.
“What do you think?” He leaned back in his chair. This time, he made no effort to hide his appreciation of her… assets.
“Yes. I think you do.” She tilted her head, almost as though surprised. “Why is that?”
“Because I don’t let my opponent hit me,” he answered instinctively.
“How?”
“I keep moving. And I’m fast. I know when to duck, and when they do come close to landing a punch, I know how to redirect it.”
For the next several moments, he found himself telling her about his first boxing instructor, his first match, and even the last fight he’d lost, which had been over four years ago. And she truly seemed interested.
He never would have thought such a conversation was possible with any lady, let alone Tabetha.
But she was not just Tabetha. She was… so much more than that.
When Mrs. Hettrick finally returned to remove their empty dishes, he was surprised to see that over two-thirds of the candles had burned away. And he’d managed to get through the evening without leaping across the table and burying his face in her décolletage.
All in all, he’d call that a grand