tempting lips.
Said lips parted. “Mr. Winter.”
But the bite was gone from her tone. Her stare dipped to his mouth.
“Yes, darling?” he teased.
Blade could not help himself. Supposed to stay away from trouble or not, trouble was currently in his arms, and he had no intention of letting her go so easily.
“You are being insufferably forward. No gentleman would act in such a disreputable fashion.” She blinked, her gaze returning to his at last. “Nor have I given you leave to speak to me with such familiarity. I am not your darling.”
“I never claimed to be a gentleman, Lady Felicity.” His hand traveled of its own volition, smoothing around her waist as he eased his hold on her, finding the curve of her lower back, then tracing her spine higher. Everywhere he touched her, he felt the sizzle of awareness between them in a way he never had before.
Not with any other woman.
He truly needed to get back to London. What was it about bloody Oxfordshire that was rotting his mind?
“Your actions certainly support that.” Her tone was cool, her raised brow a reproach.
Was she speaking of the duel? Hell. Curse Grace and her wagging tongue to perdition.
“The countess suggested she had an understanding with her husband. The earl informed me otherwise. Honor had to be satisfied.” Blade shrugged as if he had not a care. “I was aiming to miss, but the fool moved. It was his fault.”
“You are scandalous, Mr. Winter. I should not know you.”
But although she said the words, her expression—and the way her body remained fitted to his—suggested she did not object nearly as much as she protested.
He lowered his head another fraction, all while keeping the book held aloft. “But you want to know me, Lady Felicity. Admit it.”
Her tongue darted out to sweep over the fullness of her lower lip. “I shall admit no such thing. To do so would be ruinous, and I am here to make a match. To find a husband.”
Well, proper fuck.
That was not what he wanted to hear, though he supposed it should not come as a surprise. Was not every eligible lady in London marriage-minded? And should not a lady with a father who was so inept at the green baize, younger sisters awaiting their uncertain futures, be all the more in search of a husband?
“Husbands are deadly boring,” he told her anyway.
Partly because they were. And no one knew that better than Blade, who had found himself entertaining more than his fair share of wives who wanted nothing to do with their husbands. But also partly because the notion of Lady Felicity getting leg-shackled to some pathetic lord irritated the devil out of him.
“Not when your sisters’ futures depend upon them,” she countered.
There it was. Proof that she needed to marry—and well—for the sake of the ladies who would follow in her footsteps. He ought to release her. Give her the stupid book. Step away. Never again think of being near her.
She was a virgin, for God’s sake. A lady. And though he had bedded his fair share of those, this one was different.
It was despicable.
He was despicable.
“Why not enjoy yourself before you sell your body and soul to save your sisters?” he found himself asking.
Her nostrils flared. Her body stiffened. “I am not a lightskirt, Mr. Winter. I am selling nothing. I intend to marry, and soon. That is what is expected of me, and that is what is proper.”
What a cursed shame, that a woman as lively and lovely as Lady Felicity should find herself desperate to marry. Adhering to nonsensical societal rules. Curtseying her way into a dismal future. Sacrificing herself because her father was a terrible gambler who did not know one more turn of the cards or roll of the dice would only bleed him drier.
“Is it proper for us to be this close just now?” he taunted, sweeping his hand higher.
He found the nape of her neck, softer than silk, and warm. So warm. So inviting. His fingers plunged into her chignon.
“No,” she whispered, her lips falling open. “It is most improper.”
Her gaze dipped back to his mouth.
If she had exerted a hint of pressure to push him away, he would have allowed her to go. As it was, he was not holding her to him with any strength. There was nothing but the undeniable desire burning hot and bright between them that kept her where she was.
“Mayhap you ought to move, then.” As he delivered the challenge, he caressed her