She returned the thimble to the shelf. “My dowry, first off, made very clear. A connection to a duke, possibly second. Children, third, aside from those crafted with his mistress. The usual.” She touched an ammonite fossil he’d found as a child and once had to hide from his brother, who’d destroyed anything dear to him. “Oh, and my immediate and public dismissal of you. I have two days to make that happen before I attend the Fisher-Hawthorn garden party on his arm.”
Ever strode to his desk and wrenched open the top drawer.That bloody bastard.
Isabella sealed his fascination when a soft laugh shivered through her—a husky sound he wanted to hear again when there were no chaperones, no clothing, and no restraint between them. “My, the bloodcurdling expression on yourface. How does anyone think you’re harmless? But can we criticize his methods when we’re playing a genteel game of purchasing each other’s silence?”
Ever glanced up, letterhead only an agent in the profession would recognize in his hand. His wound had begun to ache, matching the dull beat of his heart. “Ireton has you by the throat,” he growled. “The difference is, heenjoysit. I don’t revel in any part of hanging someone out to dry. In fact, most days I loathe it.”
She dragged the rim of her glass along her lower lip, causing his breath to catch, his body to tighten. His cock was nearing a state that would soon be difficult to disguise, though the desk offered a measure of mercy. Unable to stop, he held her gaze, struck again by the inconvenient truth of her.
Too young, but otherwise,perfect.
“I suppose I cannot, in good conscience, condone violence,” she murmured, though her predatory smile suggested otherwise.
“I don’t have to touch him.” Ever scribbled a note, the pen biting too hard into the paper, reflecting on what a brilliant agent she would make. “Physical force is for those with nothing to hide, and I doubt the marquess qualifies. I have a colleague who specializes in acquiring information quickly.”
“Will it take long?” she asked. “I had to agree to that blasted garden party to keep him quiet.”
“I’ll have enough to end this before sunrise.” He crossed to the door and rapped twice against the corridor wall. Brick appeared and took the folded note without comment.
“Fraser,” Ever instructed. “He’ll know what to do.”
When the door closed, he didn’t immediately turn to her.
There were things he couldn’t say—things that might have given her a kinder impression of him, or at least a truer one. The cost of trusting the wrong person. The habit of keeping pieces of himself hidden even from those closestto him. He’d learned early what faith could cost. His brother and father had taught him well.
“Why did you come to me, sprite?” he asked at last, not because he had to know, but because hewantedto. He hadn’t craved such familiarity before this.
The pop of an ember in the hearth and the soft click of her glass being placed on the shelf echoed about the room. When she spoke, there was no guile to it at all. “Because I trust you.”
The rain, harder now, needled against the high windowpanes, the hushed statement threading through him.
“I trust you,” she repeated, the words thin but steady.
He shook his head.You shouldn’t.
She did. And she went to him.
Each step deliberate, the faint whisper of her skirts trailing like fingertips across his skin. The shift in the air before she reached him was palpable, his lungs quickening at her nearness. When she halted before him, it was close enough to see her lashes quiver, the pulse at her throat flutter. Her nipples were puckered beneath her sodden bodice, tips he imagined circling with his lips, his teeth.
She stepped close enough that her breath warmed his throat. “I came because I knew you’d understand.”
He should have stepped back. “You came to the wrong man, Isa.”
“Then tell me to leave.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his pulse racing. “You know I can’t.”
Rising on her toes, she went in for the kiss. Ever allowed it, let her press him back against the door and capture his lips with hers. She grasped his shoulder with one hand while tangling the other in his hair. He even closed his eyes—fuck, he couldn’t watch this—though he could still smell her, soft andfloral, and feel her nails score his scalp with marked enthusiasm.
Still, he held back.
For the sake of his bloody sanity, he caged his hands at his sides and let her take what she wanted. Despite the bountiful press of her breasts against his chest, heat searing through layers of clothing. Despite their heartbeats tangling into the same wild rhythm. Despite her tongue slipping between his lips to graze his teeth.
Despite yearning for Isabella Anstruther-Colbrook as he’d never yearned for anything in his life.
He understood, even if she didn’t—one kiss would alter everything.
“You’re playing with me,” she whispered, palms flat to his chest as she forced space between them.
