At The Bride Hunt Ball by Olivia Parker

Author:Olivia Parker
Language: fr
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Historical
Published: 2011-06-16T12:50:37+00:00

But he didn’t remove his piercing eyes from her face to see for himself if she was lying. So she stood there, shivering as the heat from her room escaped into the drafty hall.

“What do you want?” she asked, tossing a long, loose lock over her shoulder.

He gaze was direct and unflinching. “A confession.”

Her brow furrowed. “Whatever for?”

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Haywood.” Gabriel’s deceptively quiet voice vibrated through her.

Whatever did he mean? “I’m not playing any sort of game.” She placed both of her hands on her hips. “I’ve a mind to think you are the one playing a game, sir. I didn’t come knocking on your door in the middle of the night.”

Straightening, he shook his head slowly, a hint of irritation shining in his eyes. “I will not profess innocence. I came here knowing you’d be abed.”

“And I was,” she said with a brisk shrug, stating the obvious.

“I came here thinking you were alone.”

“And I’m not,” she pointed out flippantly.

He ducked his dark head down, close to hers. “Miss Greene sits fifteen feet away and ’tis the only reason my hands remain at my sides and not sculpting over your naked, quivering flesh.”

Her heart skipped as the burn of a blush crept up her throat to her cheeks. Some traitorous part of her body delighted at his words, but then her rational mind took over. Prior to his threat of ravishment, she’d thought that maybe he would come to apologize for his part in their unexpected kiss, but it had become evident he entertained no such benevolence.

Her ire rejuvenated by her thoughts, Madelyn straightened her shoulders. “Please step back. I’m shutting the door now.” She hoped her voice sounded more convincing than it did to her own ears.

He gave her a slight bow of his head and turned to leave. “Don’t forget about tomorrow afternoon,” he said over his shoulder.

The ride to the falls.

“You’ll be happy to know I shall be in attendance.” He smiled, wide and arrogant.

“Thank you for supplying that piece of information,” she said sourly. “Perhaps I shall have a headache tomorrow afternoon and spend the day resting in my room.”

He turned, walking backward down the hall, his swagger matching his roguish smile. “And perhaps I’ll carry you down to the stables slung over my shoulder. I’ll spend the rest of the day relishing the memory of having your—”

“Stop!” she called out, throwing up a hand. “Do not say another word. I don’t want to hear—”

“I think you do.”

“I certainly do not,” she said flatly, before rushing to shut the door.

It suddenly dawned on her why so many otherwise prudent women turned to milk toast from one devilish glance, one soul-searing kiss: being good and proper took hard work, and being bad was…sinfully easy.

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