At that, she tipped back her head to stare up at the sky and made an ironic-sounding laugh. “Not after last night, that’s for certain.”
He ignored her comment, intent on her earlier question about why Westerley hadn’t seen fit to hover over her protectively. To be honest, he didn’t quite understand it himself. “You aren’t a flirt, Bethany. You never have been.”
She released a heavy sigh. “Not for lack of trying.”
Another surprise. Truth be told, he’d half-expected Bethany was going to be… uninteresting.
But now she was telling him she’d tried to flirt before? She hadn’t flirted with him. Who had she been flirting with?
And how had they gotten around to this subject anyhow? Oh, yes, she’d asked him if he was in love with Miranda.
“Areyouin love with anyone that I ought to be aware of? Do you intend to—” Good heavens, he hadn’t considered this either.
“Heavens no! Why would you say that? Why would you think I was in love with someone?”
“Because you told me you’d been flirting.”
“I said I tried flirting. But it’s never worked for me.” She scowled. “I failed at flirting. How pathetic is that?”
“With who?” It would have been an interesting sight to behold.
She didn’t answer.
“Anyone I know?” he persisted. “Mantis? Stone? Not Greys?”
“As if!” she scoffed.
Now that he was curious, he wanted to know more. “What technique did you try? Show me how dismal your flirting can be.” He was only half-joking.
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Just because you’re married doesn’t mean an ability to flirt won’t come in handy.”
He had no doubt that if he was to glance over, he’d see her lips pinched together in disapproval. Perhaps he could teach her a thing or two…
“I’ve fluttered my eyelashes,” she admitted just when he thought she intended to ignore the question. “And I’ve tried waving my fan about.”
“Ah. Superficial tools.” He stopped both of them again and turned her to look at him. At this rate, he absently noted, they wouldn’t arrive at Byrde House until nightfall.
Without releasing her arm, he reached up with his other hand and skimmed it along her face.
“What are you doing?”
Indeed. Not only were her lips pinched, but her jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed as she stared at him.
“Soften your mouth and stop clenching your teeth,” Chase suggested as though introducing her to a new dance. For added measure, he cradled her jaw. “One cannot flirt if one is feeling uptight.”
“I’m not uptight.” If anything, she’d tensed more beneath his hand.
“Soften,” he repeated, gently brushing his thumb along her lower lip, meeting her anxious gaze with his own. What was she afraid of? Not him, surely?
“Here.” He caressed the soft skin of that plump lower lip and felt some satisfaction when she finally exhaled, letting go.
His breath hitched unexpectedly. What would she do if he kissed her now? He swallowed hard.
“But—"
“Much better when you don’t look so disapproving.” He used the tip of his finger to trace the bow of her upper lip and a small tremor rolled through her.
