He couldn’t recall ever having been spoken to thusly by a virgin.
“Have you considered the possibility,” she continued, “that I wanted your kiss with every fiber of my being?”
“I,” he began and stopped. The woman continued to stun him speechless. It was all he could do not to push her up against that wall and explore what more she might want with every fiber of her being. His swelling cock agreed with the idea with every fiber of its being.
Stop this, man.The conversation could proceed no further down this path. It was time to right it.Now. “I need to ask you a question.”
“Yes?” she asked, her contralto voice not making matters any easier.
“Are you being coerced?”
“I am exactly where I want to be.”
“By Montfort.”
Desire vanished from her eyes in an instant.Good.Except, already he missed it.
“Why were you in Number 9?” he asked. “Women like you don’t inhabit such places.”
He could see by the rapid rise and fall of her chest that she’d become short of breath. He’d given up on an answer when, at last, she spoke. “There is a debt.”
There.As he suspected. “What sort of debt?”
Doubt had her pressing her lips together. He could see she was already regretting her words.
“I can help you,” he pressed.
“Why?” she shot back.
“Why?”
“Why would you help me? I’m naught more than a pawn in this game. So, why wouldyou, Lord Percival, helpme?”
How had this conversation gotten so twisted around? He would give her the truth. She wouldn’t settle for less. “I need your help.”
A cynical smile curved her mouth. A mouth he’d been on the verge of kissing not two minutes ago. How quickly life could happen in two minutes. “Quid pro quo?” she asked.
“It’s how the world works.”
She laughed without humor. “At least, you’re honest.”
“With those who deserve it.”
Her gaze searched his. She wanted to believe, he could see. He was close, so close . . .
“Oh, there you are, Lady Percival!” pierced a sharp voice. A woman he vaguely recognized strode into view.
Frustration howled inside Percy as he questioned Isabel with his gaze. She answered with a resigned inhalation.
“This place,” the woman continued, “what a marvel! I mean, it’s an utter wreck, but what a marvelous one. Oh, Lord Percival!” she exclaimed, having only now noticed him. She looked back and forth between him and Isabel. She lifted a single eyebrow and tipped up onto her toes, then back onto her heels a few times, waiting, patiently.
Isabel, at last, intuited the source of the woman’s hesitation. “Miss Fox, may I introduce Lord Percival to you?”
Miss Fox extended a hand, and Percy very correctly bowed over it. Introduction complete, a silence that was beginning to grow roots dragged on, the only sound the wind whistling through the loose mortar binding the ruin’s walls together. As host, it was Percy’s lot to facilitate his guest’s comfort, even if he didn’t know her from Eve.
“Miss Fox,” he began, “you don’t think we should finish what the Vikings started and raze the structure to the ground?”
Her brow furrowed. “And build what in its place? An ornamental ruin of the sort being erected all across the countryside?” She gave her head a curt two shakes. Somehow, the gesture told the story of her personality. “No, my lord, when one is in possession of the real article, one should hold onto it with both hands and not let go for anything or anyone.”
