Mason’s eyes darkened. “Cordelia,” he said, her name nearly a sigh.
She blinked up at him.
“Maybe don’t practice kissing on anyone else.”
The air left her lungs. It was the first real thing he’d said. Her heart gave a reckless little lurch.
“Well,” she whispered, “that wouldn’t be very spinster-like of me, would it?”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, and for one suspended breath, she thought he might kiss her again.
His voice dipped low, warm against the shell of her ear, barely more than a ghost of sound. “If you’re still curious about how it’s actually done… I could help you out.”
The words crashed into her spine like lightning. She went completely still. Her breath hitched. Her heart did something stupid and traitorous, like fluttering, which was absolutely not the sort of thing a serious-minded spinster should allow to happen near the Duke of Galleon.
There was a single heartbeat, albeit just one, where she considered saying something clever, something bold or even wicked. And then her hand shot up and smacked him squarely in the shoulder.
“You absolute cad!” she gasped.
He grinned, looking pleased and so infuriatingly handsome.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing his arm with an exaggerated wince. “There she is.”
“You—You—! I should throw my slipper at your head!”
“I rather think that would only encourage me.”
She narrowed her eyes, but there was no real fire behind it. Her cheeks were burning. Her lips couldn’t quite decide whether to stay firmly pursed or tremble into a smile.
“You are awful,” she managed, fighting her own laughter. “You can’t just go around whispering things like that to innocent women.”
“Innocent?” he echoed, feigning shock. “This from the woman who launched herself at me in a dark library?”
“That was weeks ago!”
“Still counts.”
“You are absolutely, positively the worst man I have ever met.”
“And yet you keep finding your way back into my study.”
Cordelia groaned and covered her face with both hands. “You are insufferable.”
“Only for you.”
Her hands dropped just enough to peek through her fingers, and when she did, she saw it… that smile again. It wasn’t the smug one nor the wicked one, but rather, it was the smallest version of something unguarded and therefore, dangerous.
And the worst part? She liked it. No. Shelovedit.
“I need air,” she muttered, whirling toward the door once more.
“Careful not to trip on your dignity,” he called after her.
She pouted instead of replying. Not that she knew what she would say anyway because her entire body felt like a teacup someone had poured a boiling kettle into.
Outside the study, she leaned against the cool wall and let her head tip back.
“Oh. Oh, no,” she whispered.
