Kasey Michaels - Escapade. by Kasey Michaels

Author:Kasey Michaels [Michaels, Kasey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-25T23:51:30+00:00

“Hah! Over my broken and bruised body,” the viscountess declared flatly, banging both her heavily beringed hands down on the keyboard and discovering yet another chord best lost to the ages. “I’m getting the hang of it, Bones, and I’ll thank you to stop leering at the gel and go away. You aren’t needed. Aren’t wanted. Haven’t been asked, either, now that I think on it. Or am I wrong? Did that interfering son of mine send you?”

“Well, um, well—” Bartholomew stammered, still inspecting Callie, who—feeling rather proud of her appearance and more than willing to show herself off a little bit—deliberately stepped away from Mr. Pinabel, took hold of her skirts at either side, and then turned herself in a full circle so that he could see all of her new splendor. She then grinned at Bartholomew again and wrinkled her nose in a playful move that let him know she had been deliberately baiting him. Or was that flirting with him? She’d have to ask Simon, if he ever deigned to give her another lesson.

“Bones! I’m talking to you!” Imogene pressed, giving the keys another hard bang. “Did my son send you?”

Bartholomew looked at Callie solemnly, grinned quickly in what more closely resembled a pained grimace, then sobered once more. It was as if he knew he shouldn’t smile and by that smile condone her forward behavior, yet at the same time felt he might be insulting her if he didn’t at least acknowledge her own happy smile. He was so sweet, so adorable—so clearly confused and put out of kilter—that Callie longed to kiss his cheek.

With her back to Imogene—who talked a lot about being outrageous but strangely didn’t advocate any such behavior for Callie—she blew him one instead.

Bartholomew’s eyes very nearly popped out of his skull, and he quickly turned to Imogene. “Ma’am, you were asking? Did Simon—did he—did I? Um, that is, um—what was the question again, please?”

“Thought you had more to say for yourself, Bartholomew Boothe,” Imogene said, tsk-tsking a time or two before she gave in to a triumphant smile. “Struck you dumb, hasn’t she? Did it all m’self, you know, with no help from Simon. A miracle, don’t you think?”

Bartholomew let out his breath in a rush, visibly relaxing now that he had been given permission to say what was on his mind. “Oh, yes, ma’am,” he declared feelingly. “A true miracle. Hard to believe Simon thinks there’s still a prodigious amount of work to be done until she’s up to snuff and ready to set loose on the town.”

Callie turned her head away, as if reacting to a physical blow. “He—he said that, Mr. Boothe?”

“You were doing well enough with your cow-eyed looks and stupid stammering, Bones,” the viscountess grumbled, rising from the padded bench to walk toward Bartholomew in what greatly resembled a militant stomp. “Should have kept to it rather than trying to string a single silly sentence together using someone else’s words.”

She sailed past Bartholomew—who nearly fainted in

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