“Don’t play coy.” His voice dropped slightly. “When you said you’d been infatuated with me forever—what exactly did you mean?”
Her lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his insistence. Then, after a beat, she lifted her chin and said, “Just what I said.”
Ash’s stomach tightened.
He had been prepared for teasing, for deflection, for one of her sharp little quips.
But not for honesty. Not for the simple, matter-of-fact way she said it.
And that? That did something to him.
A muscle worked in his jaw. “A man cannot erase such a thing from his memory.”
Clare tilted her head slightly, studying him. Then she smiled. A slow, knowing smile. “Then we are even because I don’t think I can erase such a kiss from my memory either.”
Ash stilled. Heat unfurled low in his stomach, something dangerous and utterly consuming taking root.
Hell.
She wasn’t playing any longer.
Neither was he.
He took another step forward, closing the space between them. Slowly. Deliberately. Watching the way her breath hitched as he moved closer.
“Then,” he murmured, voice husky with intent, “what do you propose we do about it?”
CHAPTER NINE
Clare sat perched on the edge of a velvet chaise, pretending to listen as Meredith prattled on about her brother’s utter failure to show any real interest in the carefully selected young ladies assembled under this roof.
Across the room, Meredith’s lady’s maid, Martha, fastened the last delicate pearl at the nape of the duchess’s neck. Meredith looked stunning, as always, in an emerald silk gown that set off her dark hair and clear gray eyes—eyes that looked like her brother’s, eyes that were currently narrowed in frustration.
“Honestly,” Meredith huffed, studying herself in the looking glass, “it would be just like Ash to ruin this.”
Clare blinked, dragging her thoughts—or attempting to—back to the present. “Ruin what, exactly?”
“This opportunity,” Meredith said, turning to face her, arms crossed. “Do you have any idea how carefully I selected these ladies? Each of them is perfectly suitable. Refined, accomplished, attractive, well-bred. Any one of them would make an excellent match, and yet my dear brother,”—she threw her hands in the air—“has shown interest in precisely none of them.”
Clare shifted in her seat, heart still pounding far too hard from what had transpired earlier.
What shall we do about it?
The words had followed her out of that drawing room, chased her all the way back to her chambers, and had not left her alone since.
Even now, she could feel the sensation of Ash’s breath against her skin, the heat in his gaze, the way he had looked at her as if she were the only thing in the world worth looking at.
She swallowed hard, fingers digging into the fabric of her skirts.
“I mean, really,” Meredith went on, oblivious to her friend’s inner turmoil, “he couldn’t have made this easier for me? No flirtations, no dances that linger just a bit too long? I swear, he’s ignoring them all on purpose. And though it was lovely of him to askyouto dance, I can’t help but think he did it just to provoke me.”
Clare frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I threatened him to pick someone, and he picked my dearest friend? Utterly aggravating.” Meredith shook her head.
“I would take offense at that, if I hadn’t just told you recently how uninterested I am in marriage,” Clare replied with a laugh.
She didn’t blame Meredith for the sentiment. After all, she would have no social life whatsoever if it weren’t for Meredith. Not to mention the fact that even after all these years, Clare had never told her best friend that she harbored a secret attraction to her older brother. Given her scandal, it would hardly be appropriate for Ash to court her, and Clare had never wanted to put Meredith in an awkward position.
