“You seemed to be doing it well on your own.”
“Thank you for your compliment.”
“It wasn’t a compliment,” she said, her lips nearly cracking from the force required to utter the words. “It was an accusation.”
“An accusation. How trite.Youasked formyhelp, Miss Winters.”
Her fingernails dug into her left palm. She picked up the journal, shaking it in his direction from the floor. “Were you going to give me this if I hadn’t walked in on the two of you?”
“And here I thought you trusted me.” His voice was nonchalant.
“I don’t trust you at all. Asinwould be less dangerous.”
He was suddenly squatting in front of her, having moved too quickly for her to react. He ran his thumb over the leather top of the journal, the tip brushing her fingers.
“That’s a shame, Marietta.” His voice held the low hum of an ocean wave at night. “If you don’t trust me, your brother is going to hang. And I guarantee that you will still be serving me. Three services. Three tasks. Three nights of sin?”
His fingertips moved along the side of her hand and then lifted. The most dangerous man she’d ever met crouched in front of her. Terrifying in the responses he caused,created, in her.
“I want to know if you were going to give me the journal,” she whispered, unable to do anything else.
He leaned toward her, his lips mere inches from hers. “And what makes you think I will answer?” he whispered back, a sensual edge to his voice.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Frozen, Marietta waited for him to move. And waited. The footsteps grew closer. A foot hit the top of the steps.
His mouth curved, so close she could see the fine lines on his lips. She shoved away from him, standing and clutching the journal in front of her chest.
“We couldn’t locate your parasol.”
Marietta processed Carla’s words without turning. “Bring Mister—bring this—bring this gentleman something to drink, Carla. I’m sure he will appreciate the gesture.”
She heard a strangled growl before the footsteps retreated once more.
“Poor Carla. Do you always abuse your staff so?”
She gripped the journal more tightly. His smooth, mocking voice. The arrogant tilt to his head. The way he continued to squat on his heels and stare up at her through the fringe of his hair, green eyes jaded and promising all sorts of things.
“And if I do? I’m sure you will coax her back to a satisfied state. That is whatyoudo, is it not?”
“I perform all my jobs well, Marietta.” He leaned back on his hands, long legs spread before him. “Were there other services that interest you?”
Sex and mystery coiled, curled,oozedfrom every pore.
“No.”
“Pity.” He cocked his head to the side, a derisive tilt.
“I thought waifish brunettes weren’t your style?”
“They aren’t. But adders are something I pride myself in handling.”
She stiffened. “Do you get away with this type of behavior?”
He grinned wolfishly. “Always.”
“Pity.” She turned and walked through the doorway, not trusting herself to stay in a room with him any longer. She’d likely murder him. Or do something worse, like fall prey to his eyes and gestures.
Back in her room, Jeanie had a number of things out for her inspection. Marietta watched her maid look up at her, then past her, Jeanie’s eyes glazing over.
