“I’m glad it’s so.” Lifting the glass, she studied its contents. “There is nothing quite like the enjoyment you get from a good whiskey. There’s the look and colour of it, and the way it burns in the light.”
“It’s the same colour as your eyes,” he breathed, his own wide and empty of thought.
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.That’s right, Llewellyn. Fool me into thinking there’s not an ounce of calculation to your words.“Is it? Mighty kind of you to notice.”
A happy grin was her response.
Well now, she was surely going to enjoy this. Setting her own half-smile, she tilted her glass, watching as the whiskey caught the light of the candle. “Have you ever noticed the feel of glass? It’s smooth against your fingers, and though the whiskey burns you, the glass is cool. It seems strange, doesn’t it? That such fire could come from something so cool.”
Intensely aware of his gaze upon her, she brought the glass to rest on her bottom lip. “You lift the glass to your lips, and all that coolness rests upon your flesh. The scent of the whiskey hits you, sweet and fiery. Your mouth waters, and you can’t wait to have it inside you. Slowly, so slowly, you tip the glass, teasing yourself as long moments in want of its taste stretch unbearably.”
He no longer wore a smile. Dark eyes watched her as strong fingers dug into the glass before him.
A prickle washed over her skin, her heart a steady beat in her chest. With hushed voice, she continued. “Liquid slides down your throat. The flavour explodes inside you, a glorious rush of sensation that overwhelms and consumes. You curl your tongue, enjoying the lingering sensation in every part of your mouth. Then, you look at the bottle.” Finally, she met his gaze direct. No subterfuge. No tease. “And you know you can do it again.”
She tipped the glass. The whiskey rushed down her throat, burning, and she flicked her tongue to catch the lingering taste on her lips.
Dark eyes locked with hers. Her chest rose and fell as if she’d run a race, and she couldn’t look from him. There was no hint of the fool about him now, every part of him still and trained upon her.
Damn, but she couldn’t catch her breath. Time seemed to become one long moment, containing him and her and his dark, dark eyes. Every part of her felt heavy and full, and her corset suddenly too tight. The lace of her chemise rubbed against her breasts, teasing her mercilessly.
“I couldn’t fail to enjoy such a beverage now,” he finally said, and she almost gasped as the tension broke. His words held a hint of that accent, the strangely lyrical one she found ridiculously alluring.
Heart beating frantically, she struggled for something to say. Lord above, what possessed her to undertake such a fool notion as a seduction? For such had been what she’d intended, an enticement to break him of his lie, but the intention had come back to bite her. Goddamn, how it bit.
Offering her brightest smile, she said, “It’s a fine thing indeed if I’ve changed your mind.”
The corner of his mouth turned up as he leant an arm against the back of his chair. “Indeed. So how is it one does this? You simply lift it to your lips and swallow?”
Thought deserted her. He had not resumed his pretence, his movements too precise for the buffoon he pretended. Regarding her steadily, he held the glass in his hand and awaited her direction. Mouth dry, she couldn’t look from him, from the still, intense expression on his face.
Dumbly, she nodded.
He put action to his words, knocking the whiskey back with a kind of grace. Slowly, he licked his lips to gather the lingering flavour. “It’s as you describe. Fire and coolness, all as one.”
Barely hearing his words, she watched the movement of his mouth and wondered if he’d taste of whiskey.
Lacing her fingers before her, she cursed as uncertainty filled her. Damn. Why was she so affected? He was a man, like any other. To be sure, he possessed a fine build, wide of shoulder and slim of hip, and she’d concede his dark eyes with their slashing brows were fetching. The paleness of his skin should make him appear lily-liveried, especially contrasted with the black of his hair, but instead it only made her want to find if it were as cool as it appeared.
And why shouldn’t she discover such a thing? He was not the fool he appeared, and it could be he were open to flirtation. She would think on it some, and decide how she wanted to proceed.
Abruptly, she stood. “Please enjoy the rest of your night. If you require anything, you have but to ask.”
She didn’t wait for his answer before she left.
***
IDIOTIC SMILE STRETCHING HIS face, Rupert maintained that particular fiction as he watched Alice cross the floor. She didn’t stop, not even when her redheaded friend sought her attention. She merely continued up the stairs and her friend followed, until they both disappeared into the office in which he had sat yesterday. Finally, he could relax, if only partially.
Bloody hell. What wasthat?
It had all started so innocently. He’d come here this evening, certain in the belief Mrs Reynolds wouldn’t be able to resist gracing him with her company. Only an hour and a half passed before he’d been proven correct. At first, everything had proceeded as planned. He’d adopted his crisp, posh English accent, channelling stupidity to the nth degree, and she’d seemed to believe it.
Then she’d described whiskey.
Rubbing his jaw, he cursed himself. There was no way on God’s green earth he should have been as affected as he was. She had merely strung words together, everyday words and none of the naughty ones. Yet with those same words she’d had him so wound up he had to grip the seat of his chair to prevent leaping across the blasted table to see if she had tasted as good as the bloody whiskey she had described. He was not often taken with a particular woman, but he was with her. Taken.
Damn. This was a complication he didn’t need.
Tilting the full glass she’d left before him, he studied the whiskey. For another half an hour he would sit in his seat, pretend to consume the whiskey, and then he would leave. There was no point in attempting observation. She’d destroyed his concentration.
This was most definitely a complication he didn’t need.
