Citit - Wicked in Your Arms by Sophie Jordan

Author:Sophie Jordan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-08-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Sev retired early. He’d never located Lady Libbie as he’d set out to do, so he felt little desire to indulge in cards and drink with the gentlemen in the library. He would start fresh on the morrow and begin wooing Lady Libbie in earnest—and stay as far as possible from a certain female whose every breath, every look, managed to entice him.

As he passed the library, he took heed of the viscount with his jacket removed and sleeves rolled up to his elbows at the card table.

Sev had noticed the dowager’s grandson had a particular affinity for faro and was quite willing to lay down a considerable wager. His horse, his curricle in Town . . . even his ruby cuff links. Fleetingly, he wondered if Miss Hadley knew of his proclivity and then he told himself it was none of his concern. Grier Hadley’s future was none of his concern. Whom she might or might not choose to marry was none of his concern.

In his chamber, he gently shook Ilian awake from the chair in the corner. Sev dismissed the old fellow for the night with a fond pat on his bent back. It didn’t matter how many times he told Ilian not to wait up for him, the old man faithfully did so.

He was tugging his cravat loose when a slight knock at his balcony door made him pause.

Cocking his head, he stared hard at the draperies shielding the glass door, certain he had misheard. Someone could not be knocking out there. He was three stories from the ground—and it was practically midnight.

The tapping came again, this time louder. His every nerve snapped into alert with familiar tension. The same tension he’d lived with for too many years to count. He’d survived both assassins and countless battlefields over the last dozen years only because he’d learned to be alert, constantly vigilant.

He moved to the balcony door carefully, on the balls of his feet—and pulled back the drapes.

There, with her arms crossed and standing in a belligerent pose, stood Miss Grier Hadley, snow falling gently around her.

With a curse, he yanked the door open.

“What in the hell—”

“I’d like a word with you,” she demanded frostily, her lashes blinking with powdery flakes.

He looked her slowly up and down. She wore men’s trousers tailored for her. They fit like a glove to her lean limbs. He swallowed a suddenly dry throat, quite certain he had never seen a lady’s parts quite so shapely.

Stepping out onto the balcony, he looked down, confirming she had used no ladder to reach his balcony. “How did you get here?”

She waved a hand as if that were a trivial matter. “I simply jumped a few balconies until I reached yours.”

“You jumped?” He shook his head. “Which bedchamber is yours?”

She looked to her right. “Three over.”

He followed her gaze. At least eight feet separated the multiple balconies attached to each room. He looked down at the snow-covered ground. She was fortunate she did not lie below in a pile of broken limbs.

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