brows rose subtly as he mentioned Demon’s name. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintances.”
And then she dipped into a perfect curtsy, sodden, torn skirts and all.
Blade did not know why the sight of her, so elegant and proud even after she had just taken an undignified fall into the snow and narrowly avoided getting stuck by Gen’s dagger, affected him so profoundly. But it did. He wanted to…touch her. To draw her to his side. To proudly proclaim her as his.
Or to haul her over his shoulder and carry her off so he could have his wicked way with her.
None of these thoughts were helping, and the cold did nothing to stymie the sudden snugness of his trousers. Now that he knew she was uninjured, his body had deemed itself free to carry on with his rakehell status.
He was barely aware of the murmurings of his siblings offering Lady Felicity equal polite greetings.
“You know Blade,” Gen observed, her tone rife with meaning.
Meaning he detected and could not like. Meaning that suggested Lady Felicity knew him. Which she did not. At least, not well enough. Yet.
No. That could never damn well happen. She was not for him, he reminded himself. The trouble was, his cock had never listened to his mind. And his cock almost always won every argument betwixt the two.
Color crept into Lady Felicity’s cheeks for the first time. “I scarcely know Mr. Winter at all.”
Scarcely?
He clenched his jaw. His tongue had been in her mouth. He had bared her breasts and sucked her nipples. Just yesterday. And yet she claimed to scarcely know him. The outrageous set of petticoats.
“Lady Felicity has been making a habit of following me about since I have arrived,” he announced then, like a complete and utter arse.
Yes, he was being a churl. He knew it. Could not help himself. The woman drove him to distraction.
What else was he to do?
He had never known another lady like her. And he knew, somehow, instinctively, that he never would again.
Predictably, Lady Felicity’s response was instant and outraged. “Following you about? If anything, you are the one who has been following me, Mr. Winter. Need I remind you of yesterday in the yellow salon?”
The moment she asked the last question, her color heightened. Her eyes widened. He could read her so easily. She had allowed her emotions to get the best of her, and she had never intended to reveal such details to their audience. Although his siblings knew nothing of what had occurred in the salon the day before, her reaction was as telling as anything.
Still, he could not resist taunting her. Their gazes were locked. “I find my memory rather dull at the moment. Mayhap you should remind me, my lady. What of the yellow salon?”
Her eyes narrowed. She had been caught.
Fuck, he wanted to kiss her.
And bed her.
But he could not do either of those things, not now and not ever. Especially not with his damned siblings looking on as a rapt audience. Christ, he would never hear the end of this.
“You were seeking sewing, I believe,” she said sweetly. “It is not as if you knew I would be within and invented an excuse to go there. I am sure you go about fetching sewing quite regularly, do you not? Only, there was no sewing in the room in question.”
Well fuck him. She could give, Lady Felicity Hughes. She was made of sterner stuff than he had supposed. And it made him admire her—and want her—even more.
“And what if I did lie just to be alone with you, Lady Felicity?” he countered, ignoring the fact his siblings were listening eagerly to his every word. Knowing they would needle him for this later. Not caring.
He wanted to best her. To watch that lovely flush creep over her high, aristocratic cheekbones.
And there it was, as if on cue. Brilliant patches of pink on her pale cheeks. “Did you?”
He leaned nearer. “What would you do if I said yes?”
“Enough of this nonsense,” Gen interrupted. “I need to find my dagger. It is my favorite. Please accept my apologies, Lady Felicity. We were having a knife throw, and then one of my arsehole brothers made me lose my aim. I fear it was my knife that sailed past you and tore your gown.”
Curse his sister. She had a deplorable sense of timing. Could she not have waited another minute to speak her piece? Better yet, could she and Gavin and Demon not have sodded off