“It has rather aggressive thorns. I can see them from here.”
He understood what she was doing. She was avoiding the obvious place where they should stage theirlittle sensation—the marble Greek statue planted dead opposite the double doors.Too obvious, he supposed.
He propped an arm on its base. “I believe this is the perfect spot.”
Lady Beatrix appeared unconvinced. “Define perfect.”
“A clear view from the door.”
A resigned sigh issued from parted lips. “I suppose. However, I’m not sure anyone will notice us in the slightest withthat”—she motioned in the general direction of the statue’s perky, unclad breasts—“for our backdrop.”
Dev’s mouth curved into a smirk. “They’ll think we’ve been overcome by lust.”
She squeezed her eyes shut for an instant. Then they popped open, and she said, “Right. Shall we get on with it?”
Dev’s smile broadened with triumph, then froze.
One problem yet remained.
Namely, the ten or so feet of distance between them—and how to bridge it.
The nervous skittishness of Lady Beatrix’s eyes said she’d arrived at the same problem.
“This doesn’t have to be awkward.” He said it in an offhand manner meant to put her at ease.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Who’s being awkward?”
Best he left that question unchallenged.
He took a step forward and sensed she’d willed herself not to take a responding step backward.
As starts went, he could think of worse.
The time had arrived.
For Beatrix to play her role—of besotted lover to the man known as Lord Devil.
Head cocked, attentive, he was waiting.
For her to make the next move.
“Shall I…” She had no idea where to go with the question. “Just tell me where to stand.”
“Where you are is perfect, only…”
“Only?”
“Only I shall need to move closer to you.”
Within his eyes and between the syllables of his words, he was requesting permission.
She nodded.
He moved closer.
“I believe some parts of us will have to touch.”
She swallowed. “Of course.”
