He retrieved his knife then and stalked toward her side of the bed, still indecent in nothing more than his smalls.
Callie stiffened at his approach but refused to flinch away from him.
“You have nothing to fear from me, Lady Calliope,” he told her curtly, taking her wrist and slicing through the cord which had bound her wrist. “I will not hurt you.”
“I am to believe the man who has taken me captive?” she bit out, rubbing her newly released wrist.
The freedom felt exhilarating.
He shrugged. “Believe what you like. You already do.”
His chest was fascinating. She tried not to look at him, truly she did. But aside from the artwork and sculptures she had seen in Paris, she had never before had such a thorough view of a man’s naked torso. The Earl of Sinclair’s was splendid. There was no other word for it.
She blinked, forcing her gaze away from those sculpted slabs of muscle. “You were the last person to see Alfred alive, my lord, aside from the servants, who overheard you threatening him. It seems an impossible coincidence for both the wife you loathed and the man she loved to die on the same night, does it not?”
“Not impossible if it happened,” he corrected calmly. “I am sorry for the loss of your brother, my lady, but I am not responsible for it.”
His sympathy took her by surprise, but she refused to trust him or his words. “Of course you would deny it. I hardly expect you to admit to having committed murder.”
“And so you thought to falsify my confession through your vicious little book?” he guessed.
Correctly.
Blast him.
“I was attempting to right a wrong,” she defended herself. “If I cannot have justice for Alfred’s death, then destroying the remnants of your reputation will have to suffice.”
There.Some raw honesty for him.
His countenance was unreadable, but his jaw was rigid. “What a vivid imagination you have for a gently reared lady.”
She lifted her chin, eying him with all the defiance teeming inside her. “Pray do not act as if I shocked you. I am certain my work pales in comparison to the sins you have committed.”
He gave an indolent shrug, his stare hard upon her. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I am not as evil as you imagine me.”
Ha!She most certainly did not believe that. There was a reason he was known as Sin, after all. She was sure the rumors she had heard about him were true. All of them.
“Only an evil scoundrel would abduct an innocent woman from London and take her prisoner,” she countered.
“Ah, but I hardly think you are an innocent, Lady Calliope.” He stroked his thumb over the sharp edge of his blade as he watched her.
“You will cut yourself again,” she warned him before thinking better of the words.
He raised a dark brow. “Concern for me, princess? Take care, or else I shall think you have taken a fancy to me. Then again, I did take note of the manner in which you have been admiring my physique.”
Her cheeks went hot anew. Of course he had noticed her silly ogling of him.
“I was not admiring you,” she denied crisply. “You repulse me.”
His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Your nipple said otherwise earlier, darling.”
He had beenawake. The utter knave!
Even her ears went hot. “How dare you?”
He had the audacity to flash her an unrepentant grin. “A man may as well grow familiar with the woman who will be his wife. I had to be certain you are not frigid. I will require an heir, after all.”
With that, he sauntered back to the other side of the bed, still holding his blade as if he were a common footpad wielding a weapon rather than a peer of the realm. Gritting her teeth, she rose from the bed, clutching the counterpane to her breast for modesty’s sake.
