Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,26
had told him about the ruins that morning at breakfast. She had also mentioned—unintentionally, he was sure—that Lady Felicity had expressed a desire to visit them following her morning meal. Pru had also relayed that the ruins possessed a cozy fire tended to by servants at regular intervals.
Which meant that if he made haste and followed Lady Felicity quickly enough, he could have her alone. Again. And mayhap have the chance to persuade her with a kiss the way he would have done the day before, had not his cursed siblings interrupted him.
Lady Felicity ducked into the ruins, closing the door at her back.
Blade moved faster, his long-legged strides eating up the distance between them with ease. He made certain no one else was behind him on the path—why he cared was curious, because he had never given a damn about propriety before—and then he slipped inside the ruins as well.
She was nowhere to be found in the main hall. Bemused, he tried the first door he came upon.
Success.
Her back had been to him. She stood before the merrily crackling fire in the heart of the small sitting room, hands outstretched for warmth. The false ruins were a fifteen-minute walk from the main house, and in the day’s unseasonable winter chill, Blade was cold as well.
She whirled about at the creak of the door, pressing a hand over her heart. “Mr. Winter! Did you follow me here?”
Yes.
“No,” he lied, sauntering forward, moving toward her. “Did you follow me here?”
She blinked. “That hardly makes sense. I was first to arrive.”
“I was already here when I heard a door opening and closing.” He shrugged, allowing that bit of fiction to settle where it would. “I thought to investigate, and imagine my surprise to find you here.”
He was not about to admit to following her, damn it.
Her eyes narrowed. “I most certainly did not follow you, Mr. Winter. Indeed, I am endeavoring to stay far away from you, as proximity has proven quite dangerous.”
“Dangerous?” He stopped before her, shedding his gloves, coat, and hat. He dropped them to the floor. “If by dangerous, you mean delicious, then I agree, love.”
There it was again, that exquisite pink on her cheeks.
A woman innocent enough to flush—now there was a luxury he could not deny himself. She was so damned virginal and sheltered. He wanted to ruin her. To bring her to her knees. To steal a modicum of that innocence for himself. To devour her.
Christ, had he ever wanted a woman more?
The answer was painfully obvious—a decisive no.
“I meant what I said, sir,” she insisted, shoulders going back in a defiant pose. “Being near you is dangerous.”
“To your virtue? Mayhap.” He grinned. “But I promise you that you will not regret it. Not for a moment.”
Her lips parted. “Mr. Winter!”
But though she scolded him and pretended she was outraged, he knew better. He could still hear her sultry moan when he had sucked her nipples. He could have lifted her gown, touched her, and he would have found her wet. He could have stroked her until she spent, and he suspected she knew the truth of it as well as he did. Their connection was undeniable.
“Do not pretend to be scandalized, Lady Felicity. We both know you enjoyed yourself in my arms.” He plucked the hat from her head, dropping it to the floor along with his shed outer garments. “We both know you want more.”
He was playing with fire, and he knew it. Mayhap they would both get burned. He was not sure he cared at the moment. All he did care about was the hazel-eyed siren watching him with her steady, rapt gaze. Her scent reached him then—jasmine. Sweet and exotic. Like something he could never have.
Something he very much desired.
“You are astoundingly arrogant, Mr. Winter,” she accused, but there was no heat in her voice.
He was, and he knew it. With good reason. He may not be a titled lord to the manor born, but he knew how to satisfy a lady.
His eyes dipped to her lips. “Yet you long for me anyway.”
“You presume to know what I feel?” she asked softly. “What I want?”
He reached for the line of buttons on her pelisse, removing them one by one from their moorings. “Stop me if I am wrong.”
She did not move away. Nor did she do anything to stay his progress. Instead, she remained still, allowing him to undo them.
“What are you doing, Mr. Winter?”
“Time you call me Blade, don’t you think,