Would she punch him?
Would she kill him?
Or worse, would she kiss him back?
He paused still close enough to feel each breath, lost in indecision. It took him much too long to step back.
“We should try a different floor,” he managed, voice nearly cracking.
They found a set of servants’ stairs, but a guard waited at the bottom. They huddled around the corner to avoid detection.
“If the stairs are guarded when no other room has been, the good stuff has to be up there,” Miranda said.
“Of course,” Devin agreed, so lost in his own musings he’d forgotten to consider the obvious. “He knows that people drift off at a party. He’d expect people to look for a quiet room or adark corner. Nothing of value would be left where a couple could stumble upon it while knocking boots on the furniture.”
Miranda’s face twisted in disgust. “People don’t really do that. It’s…they’d incite scandal and ruin—”
“My dear Miss Wilde, I assure you that it is very much what people do. And often. And everywhere. In fact—” Devin paused and cleared his throat. He was really hurting himself more than her at this point.
“Well, regardless,” she said, “We need to remove that guard. A distraction might work, though we don’t want to raise any alarms. There’s bound to be more up there so I can’t just start knocking themallunconscious. We’ll have to be selective.” She chewed her lip as she thought.
Devin did his best not to look at her mouth. Tried not to imagine her teeth on his lips, biting gently, her breath shallow and full of want. How could he not want to coax a few forbidden moans from her? To show her that his mouth was good for more than just bickering?
He cleared his throat. Miranda was off-limits. The scent of her wafted into his face as she paced, trying to think of a plan. Divine above, there was no part of her that didn’t tempt him. He wanted to taste the lilac on her skin, rip through her clothes and find all the crevices the scent lingered.
Infernal take him, he needed to stop.
He bit down on his tongue, hoping to quiet the riot in his veins. He was dangerously close to aroused and only careful control was keeping an erection at bay.
“I have an idea,” Miranda turned on a heel and headed back toward the ballroom.
Devin kept his distance as he followed. Miranda stopped once they could hear the notes of the crowded ballroom, the background chatter and swell of music, but before they could see inside.
“I know someone who can help. You wait here and I’ll get her,” she instructed.
“Hold on, love,” he grabbed her arm, but instantly regretted the action. They both paused, the dance still lingering between them. She swallowed as she carefully lifted her arm from his slack fingers. Devin took a slow breath before continuing, “Who is this person and how do I know they can be trusted?” He was choosing to be pragmatic instead of reflecting on the razor edge he was currently straddling.
“Of course, she can be trusted,” Miranda scoffed, “Or I wouldn’t have suggested it.”
How was she maddeningly alluring one minute and infuriating the next? She’d stubbornly insist the sky were red if it meant disagreeing with him. “Not a team player, I see,” Devin said.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you are determined to be in charge, even when we haven’t agreed to it. You may trust this person, but I have never met them and, as my stakes in this are just as high as yours, I’d rather not throw just anyone into our plans.”
She had the audacity to roll her eyes. “This is hardly just anyone. Lydia Foster would never tell a soul anything. Honestly, she’s more likely to forget what we’re doing before she has a chance to let it slip.” She crossed her arms and added, pointedly, “Unless you don’t trustmyjudgment.”
“In point of fact, I hardly know you, Miss Wilde,” he retorted, resisting the urge to cross his own arms.
“I think of the two of us,myjudgement is more reliable than yours.”
“I beg your pardon?” He was truly offended. She had the nerve to say her judgement was superior when she was conspiring with the likes of him?
“Just…” she bared her teeth and, for a moment, he feared he’d laugh and set her off again.
“I suppose you won’t let it go, then,” he said.
She set her hands on her hips—or, rather, the billowing skirts that accentuated her hips—and snapped, “Doyouhave another plan for getting past the guard?”
