Like now, as he smirked down at her, handsome and teasing and turning her insides hot and aching.
“Devising the best way to see me bloody and unconscious, Miss Greene?” he asked.
She raised her chin. “Hardly sporting for me since the look of utter defeat on your face is half the reason to wage the war.”
“Did I call you a ‘general’ before? Forgive me. I meant ‘the Devil’s right hand.’”
They’d never get anywhere this way. She narrowed her eyes. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon snared us both.” A peace offering, of a sort.
He paused at that. A heartbeat of hesitation, as if that sharp mind of his were working through a problem to find the solution wasn’t so simple. “But only one of us is taking the effort to enjoy the trap.” He held the door wide for her to enter the library.
Anna eyed the dark room beyond, the heat in her belly growing warmer. To be behind closed doors with him. In thedark. Where dangerous things liked to stir and reshape. Already, there were cracks in her guard, tiny fissures growing larger with every quip, every sensual tilt to his lips.
She stepped back. “Perhaps our discussion should wait until after we’ve both had time to rest.” And after she’d had time to regain her balance.
Jackson’s gaze was on her face, that same infuriating challenge in his eyes. “You can’t mean to turn tail now, General?”
Ego won out.
She huffed and marched into the dark room, where she waited for him to light a lamp.
A single light that cast too small a glow, leaving only his sharp features and what appeared to be a large desk illuminated.
She glanced into the shadows. “No chairs?”
No other furniture of any kind beyond what appeared to be floor-to-ceiling bookcases heavy with tomes.
“I don’t come in here to read,” he said.
“What else does one do in a library?”
A fleeting expression swept across his face too quickly to discern. He cleared his throat. “I meant, I do not find myself with the necessary time to indulge in such pursuits.”
“I thought a gentleman’s ennui was the product of constant leisure time.”
His brows rose. “Where did you hear that?”
“My brother hired tutors to see to my education.”
“Another woman taught you about gentlemen?”
She frowned. “Where would the authority lie in that? Aside from my lessons in ladylike endeavors, all my tutors were male. As such, I made sure to ask all manner of questions.”
He groaned and covered his eyes with his hand. “I bet you did. I hesitate to point out that a woman should perhaps not know so much about a man’s leisure time.”
“Given your uncomfortable state, one could argue the exact opposite. A gentleman’s vices are of import to a woman once they are married, are they not?”
He cleared his throat again. “I am not a man given to dissatisfactionorvices. So, there is little for you to concern yourself with on that account.”
“What of mistresses?” she forced out, embarrassment burning the back of her neck. “Is that considered a vice, or is that more of a hobby?”
“Neither!” His cheeks went the color of primrose or holly berry; it was hard to tell in the poor light. “I find the practice of keeping a mistress distasteful. And I will thank you not to bring up the subject again.”
“You wished for us to continue speaking,” she pointed out, something in her gut easing at the idea that he did not keep other women.
“If you would be so kind as to forgo the more alarming of your questions, it’s about time you told me why you were caught in Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s trap to begin with.”
The tension was back, though there was no delicious heat to go with it this time. There’d be no more putting off the inevitable. No more hiding.
