‘And yet you’ve suddenly developed a great fear of the dark.’ Thomas raised a brow and secretly thrilled at the heat flaring in her eyes.
Good God, anger suits her.
‘I need to speak with you.’ She flicked her eyes to the butler, who stood with his back straight, his eyes staring ahead at nothing. ‘Come.’
The imperious command should have stoked his anger. But instead, another emotion – just as hot and twice as dangerous – flared deep in his chest as she swept out of the front entrance, down the steps, and into the night. Without thought, he followed her.
Clio’s heeled boots crunched over the gravel drive to where her carriage waited, sans footman. Thomas eyed the empty back seat.
‘Where is your man?’ He attempted to keep his voice level.
She looked around, going so far as to check under the cabriolet. ‘Oh dear. I must have misplaced him.’ She opened the door and patted the seat for Sir Robin, who happily hopped in and fluffed his feathers.
‘Did you drive here alone?’ He wasn’t trying to keep his voice level any more. It was futile.
Clio’s golden eyes flashed with warning, but he cared not. He could withstand her fury. Indeed, he welcomed her fire.
‘I didn’t feel the need to bring my footman when I knew the carriage would be watched over by your sister’s groomsmen. It seemed a waste of poor John’s time to sit out here in the cold for hours waiting on me to finish my dinner. I am more than capable ofmanaging the journey from my house to here and back again alone. This is hardly St Giles or Whitechapel.’
Thomas stepped forward, gripping her arm. ‘You will do no such thing. It’s bad enough you insist on driving yourself, but to come without the protection of a footman is unacceptable. Only a fool would tempt fate so boldly. A lady such as yourself is just as apt to find trouble on the streets of Mayfair as anywhere else.’
The lamps lighting Cynthia’s drive flared and popped as Thomas’ fingers began to tingle, then burn where he touched her.
‘Must I remind you again? I am no lady. If you are so concerned with safety, look to your own. Men issuing commands to someone like me have far more to fear than any woman driving alone.’ Clio’s arm was hotter than fire, even through the layers of satin and leather. Rosemary and bergamot filled his lungs as her scent intensified with the heat. His hand reacted instinctively, releasing her as quickly as one might pull back from a burning coal.
He looked from his unmarked palm to her covered arm. Heat waves emanated from her body in the wavering lamplight. But it wasn’t fear that filled him. It was wonder, and a desperate need to know what in the blazes was going on with this woman.
‘You are keeping secrets from me, Clio Blair.’
She narrowed her gaze. ‘I could say the same of you, Thomas Grey. You told me you came back to Viscount Beachley’s the other day to give the maid your card. That’s how you found me in the study. But you gave her your card in the servants’ dining room. I watched you hand it to her, and I watched her take it. So, tell me, why did you return to Beachley’s after we concluded our interviews with the servants? What were you looking for in the study?’
Damnation.
‘I was looking for you.’ Her anger stoked his own, and he clamped his teeth together, frustrated that he let her provoke him so easily.
Uncertainty showed as she hitched her shoulders. ‘Why?’
There were a million reasons why he might look for Clio Blair, but none of them were appropriate to share. ‘Has no man ever pursued you before, Miss Blair?’
Lifting her chin a fraction, he noted her error. Her white throat gleamed in the moonlight like a flag waving in the dark, but this was no mark of surrender. This was a warning before the battle began. Thomas wanted to pull her closer, breathe her scent, taste the vulnerable skin behind her ear and make her shiver. Instead, he held himself in check.
‘My romantic history is none of your business.’
Ah. So, you’ve never been courted.
If he needed any more proof that men were idiots, this would suffice. Clio was wealthy, beautiful, and intelligent. She should have a bevy of impoverished lords seeking her hand in marriage, yet there were none. And Thomas could guess the reason: her entire person defied anyone who might try to control her fate. No man, titled or not, would be willing to let his wife hold the reins, and Clio wasn’t about to give them up willingly.
‘I suppose you’ve never wished to be courted.’
She curled her lip in a sneer. ‘I’d rather go swimming in the Thames on a snowy day in January.’
It made sense. She didn’t need a man for income or security. She and her female relatives had done an exemplary job of creating a life relying entirely upon their efforts alone. Unlike so many unhappy ladies within the beau monde, she did not need to marry and would never be forced into a union by her aunt. If a man wished to woo Clio Blair, he would have to convince her that what he offered was worth her time. And Thomas guessed no man she met was ever willing to take on such a challenge. Until now.
Absolutely not. She is not for you. And you certainly have nothing to offer her beyond physical pleasure.
But even that was impossible, Thomas did not dally with virgins, especially a witchy one with a raven on her shoulder and fire in her eyes.
‘No man has ever tempted you before?’
