“Must I beg?”
A vase containing freshly cut flowers teetered as Pandy picked up another frame to examine it, and Cat stood on her hind legs, her front paws on the girl’s skirts.
“Do try not to knock over the flowers, dear,” she called. “I’m afraid Cat would try to eat them and get dreadfully sick.”
“I’m sorry, Lottie. I didn’t mean to,” the child said, her voice contrite.
“Lottie,” Brandon said urgently, his voice low. “I’m desperate. It’s only for a few hours.”
“Off to court Lady Lavinia?” she asked, turning her attention back to him.
“Jealous, my dear?”
It scarcely behooved him to taunt her. She might have pointed that out to the conceited oaf seated in her drawing room requesting a favor of her. But she didn’t want him to see just howaffected she was by the thought of him gallivanting with another woman.
“Why should I be?” she asked coolly, fussing with the gathering of her overskirt. “Our association is at an end.”
“Is it?” His eyes flicked over her body with frank sensual intent.
And damn the man, but that green-eyed glance alone was enough to make her nipples hard.
“Of course it is. As we discussed, it was nothing more than a temporary aberration. A brief surrender to madness.”
“Not the table leg, Cat!” Pandy declared.
Lottie diverted her attention to herLouis Quinzetable, which was being gnawed on by the spaniel.
“No, Cat,” Brandon commanded. “Bad Cat.”
“Do you think her name ever confuses her?” Lottie wondered idly.
Looking guilty, the dog backed away from the table, leaving it relatively unscathed.
“It was hardly an aberration, and I believe you know that,” Brandon added to her in a low aside. “Nor was it madness.”
Heat blossomed in her belly. The very air in the room suddenly felt heated and sparking with electricity. But she wouldn’t think of that now. Wouldn’t focus on the sensations he evoked. The yearning starting to burn deep within her. She’d had what she wanted from him. At least, that was what she was telling herself.
“Whatever it was, it shan’t be repeated,” she told him sharply.
“Have you any sweets?” Pandy wanted to know, apparently having grown weary of inspecting the framed pictures and sketches Lottie kept on the low table and moving on to the window, where she peered into the street below, her face so near to the pane that it left a smudge when she backed away.
“I’m certain my cook has some in the kitchens,” Lottie told her, a rush of fondness for the child going through her.
It was impossible not to like the girl. Pandy was filled with energy, boundless spirit, sweet charm, and a hint of naughtiness. She ran circles around her father, and that also pleased Lottie. If anyone needed to be brought to his knees by a tiny human, it was the Duke of Brandon. His love for his daughter, however, was undeniable. And remarkable. Many men in his position would have sent her away and never thought of Pandy again.
“Does that mean you will grant me this favor?” Brandon asked.
She wished she didn’t find him every bit as charming as his daughter, albeit in a different sense. But she did. When he smiled at her, it was difficult to deny him anything he wanted. Including herself.
But she was wise enough to know that she could use the circumstances to her advantage.
“I will,” she decided, “in exchange for a favor of my own.”
He grinned. “I ought to have known. What is the favor?”
“When I decide upon it, I’ll let you know,” she told him.
His eyes narrowed. “What if I don’t like the favor in question?”
