When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,24
* *
Messalina looked at the puppy in her lap. It was small and sleek, an Italian greyhound, if she wasn’t mistaken. It was gray all over except for a white line down the center of its nose and a white throat and stomach. But instead of an adult Italian greyhound’s graceful demeanor and elegant lines, the puppy had triangle ears much too big for its head and the saddest button eyes she’d ever seen.
It whimpered.
Messalina hardened her heart and looked up into Hawthorne’s assessing face. This was a scheme to soften her, she knew. “Are you trying to buy my affections with a puppy?”
“I merely thought you might like him.” A corner of that far-too-sensuous mouth twitched. “Besides, I’m sure you’re too intelligent to be won over by a puppy.”
“Correct.” Messalina ignored the silky fur, the pathetic whip tail, and the sad eyes and held out the puppy to Sam.
Sam looked at her with disappointment in his eyes. “Don’t you want ’im, ma’am?”
Two pairs of sad brown eyes were staring at her now.
“No,” Messalina said briskly and completely untruthfully.
Sam looked crestfallen. “Will ’e ’ave to go away, then, guv?” he asked as he hugged the puppy.
“I’m afraid so,” Hawthorne said gravely. “Once Mrs. Hawthorne makes up her mind she rarely changes it.”
Messalina’s heart contracted. It wasn’t as if she didn’t like dogs…or little boys.
“Erm…” She cleared her throat and said, “I suppose we might keep him—just for a bit, mind—to see if he will do.”
Sam’s smile was incandescent.
It made her feel so warm inside that Messalina couldn’t help smiling back. “Do you think you can care for him for me, Sam? While I decide if I’ll keep him, that is?”
“Yes, ma’am!” the little boy exclaimed before glancing at Hawthorne with wide eyes. “Can I, guv?”
“Yes. If you’re diligent in your duties.” Hawthorne waved the boy and puppy from the room.
Messalina immediately turned on Hawthorne. “Where did you get that puppy?”
His eyebrows rose. “The day of our wedding I asked Reg to find me a suitable puppy for you. Something a lady would like.”
“I suppose that was thoughtful,” she said gruffly.
“Is that a compliment, Mrs. Hawthorne?” He grinned outright at her.
It came to her that when he smiled naturally, he was devastating.
A good thing, then, that his smiles were rarely real.
“What do you think?” she asked impulsively.
He cocked his head, studying her. “Frankly, I don’t trust compliments. When you fling your insults at me, you are honest. The rage lights your face, your cheeks redden, and your eyes glare. I find myself…provoked.”
“Do you,” she said just a tad breathlessly. “I assure you I have no urge to provoke you. But then I find that men are easily stirred to mindless excitement no matter a woman’s intent.”
“Mindless?” He touched his thumb to his bottom lip, pulling it slightly down. Messalina had trouble looking away. “No. My mind—and my imagination—are fully working.”
“Then perhaps you should let both your mind and your imagination rest,” she replied tartly. “They seem overfatigued.”
The curl of his lips this time was secretive, and yet no less enticing. “I’m so glad that I didn’t give you flowers or sweets or jewels. It would have been a terrible slight to your wit.”
“But a puppy isn’t?” she snapped. “I think you should add it to your list of useless gifts.”
“No,” he said softly. “Not when you looked at that puppy with joy in your eyes.”
She bit her lip, knowing she was blushing. What was she to say to that? “I…I…”
He leaned forward across the table and said low, “I would travel to the depths of Siberia to bring that look to your eyes.”
She stared at him, her blood thrumming in her ears. She knew he was playing with her, that he was not a truthful man, but those words.
How could any woman defend her heart against him?
“Messalina,” he whispered, his voice rough.
She looked away from him, taking a steadying breath. “I—I should retire for the night.”
She stood abruptly, nearly sending her chair crashing to the floor, and marched to the door.
Behind her she heard him murmur, “Coward.”
Messalina made very sure she didn’t react.
Maddening, cunning, awful man! She started up the staircase. The way he made her skin heat, the thoughts flee her head, truly was beginning to worry her. She knew he was interested only in her money, but when he said such romantic things to her, she couldn’t remember. And when he smiled…when those charming, sensual, much too wicked lips curved and that