The Rakehell of Roth (Everleigh Sisters #2) - Amalie Howard Page 0,34

the twins whined. “It’s called survival. And today, the dratted hedges have bested us. What would we have won anyway?”

“A wish, of course.”

Clarissa’s derisive snort drifted through the foliage. “If wishes were horses, poor men would ride.”

“So cynical, Clarissa.”

“Mistress of Cynicism, get it right! Shall I send a servant to fetch you?”

“No, thank you. I’m not a loser.”

Clarissa’s voice came through again, though fainter this time as if she’d already departed the maze. “You say that to my face, Isobel Helena Vance!”

Isobel’s laughter brushed over Winter’s senses like a summer rain. “I’m quaking in my boots, Clarissa Gwendolyn Bell!”

He grinned at their banter and folded his arms, propping his hip along the edge as a breathless, radiant woman came tumbling into view. His wife. Once more, he was struck speechless by her beauty. She’d always been beautiful, but now she was luminous. Golden hair askew, red-cheeked with grass stains on her dress, she’d never looked lovelier.

“Oh,” she gasped, coming to an abrupt halt, her gaze focusing on him and then blinking rapidly as if she doubted her own mind of whom she saw. “What are you doing here?”

Winter’s mouth curled into a smirk. “Perhaps you wished for me to be. This is a wishing well, you know.” He gave a suggestive wink, his tone dripping with innuendo. “It knows our deepest thoughts and desires, even before we know them ourselves.”

Her eyes flared, but then she composed herself and smiled. “Then you should be bearing a large jug of water because I’m parched!” Her already rosy cheeks bloomed as she approached to peer over the side of the well. Glittering blue eyes met his, determination rising in them at the look of bold challenge in his. “And if this well was privy to my innermost thoughts as you imply, the bearer of said jug would have been wearing much less clothing or none at all.”

Winter blinked.

Did she…did he just hear her say she wanted him naked?

He felt his mouth fall open, his turn to stare in mute stupefaction. “I beg your pardon?”

Her answering smile was full of mischief, lighting those singular eyes from within as she peered up at him. “Gracious, Roth, are you blushing? A wicked rogue like you going red over a few bawdy words? Color me shocked.”

“You think me wicked?”

Pink rose in her cheeks. “Aren’t you?”

“Only when it suits me.”

She licked her lips and pulled a corner of the lower one between her teeth. The sight of it let loose a flood of instant lust in his veins. “And does it suit you now?”

Bloody hell. Was she flirting with him? “Who are you and what have you done with the timid Lady Isobel?”

“She grew up, and she was never timid, my lord.” Her laugh rang out between them. “You simply did not know her.”

His appreciative gaze slid from her glowing face to the embroidered bodice of her walking gown to the tips of her muddied boots. “Indeed.”

The push and pull between them had begun when she’d barged into his home, and had only increased during that teasing dance of theirs—like weapons being drawn and paces being counted in a duel unlike any other. And now, it seemed as if she were preparing to take it up another notch.

Perhaps he had underestimated his little country wife.

One knee perched on the surrounding bench, Isobel propped her hands on the crumbling stonework and stared at him, her pert nose wrinkling. “Do you have a farthing, my lord?”

With a lift of a brow, he fished in his pockets for a coin and handed it to her. He watched in silence as she closed her eyes for a second and then flicked it over the edge until there was the tiniest answering splash. She stared down into the depths before turning and sitting on the bench, a smile playing about her full lips.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

She smoothed her dress, flicking off a few errant leaves caught in the fabric. “If I told you, it wouldn’t come true, would it?”

“You did use my coin, so perhaps I have a vested interest in the boon it purchased.”

Her brow pleated. “I don’t think it works that way. You gave it freely.”

“Let me guess, then. You wished for new jewels. Or a new horse.”

“Do you think me so shallow, my lord?”

Her earlier words came back to haunt him—clearly, he didn’t know her at all. What she truly desired, what she valued, or even what she would hope for while standing at the edge of