His grin deepened, unrepentant. “What would you have me say, darling? I won’t apologize for pleasuring you. I heard nary a complaint when my mouth was on your—”
“That is enough, Mr. Winter,” she bit out, interrupting him lest he finish his sentence and turn her to flame.
“I told you to tell me to stop. And yet, you did not. Nary a hint of protest. If anything, you were quite…welcoming.”
So he had. And so she had not. And…curse him, she had been welcoming in a fashion most unbecoming of a lady, it was true. Particularly an unwed lady. And most especially an unwed lady desperate to land herself a husband.
She huffed out a breath. “I have no wish to argue with you, Mr. Winter.”
“Because you would lose.”
His quick, smug retort made her long to box his ears. And then kiss him some more.
Drat.
Now where had that thought come from?
Felicity squared her shoulders, preparing for further battle. “On the contrary, sir. I am confident I would win. However, I have no wish to argue with you because I need to do what I promised. The owner of the book is eagerly awaiting its return, and I can hardly afford to be caught alone with someone such as yourself.”
His grin slowly faded. “Someone such as myself, Lady Felicity? And what is someone such as myself? Do tell.”
“Someone…” She searched for the word she wanted, but it felt like an insult. Her lips would not form it, not after his had just been upon them.
“Someone common,” he elaborated for her. “Someone baseborn. A scoundrel, a rogue, a rookery thief. An assassin. A bastard.”
She hated the way those aspersions left his tongue with ease. She hated even more that she had been about to say some of them. That she had said some of them.
But there was one which stood out, one she had never thought in conjunction with him.
“A-are you an assassin?” she asked haltingly.
This beautiful man—a murderer? She could hardly make the connection.
He inclined his head. “I was. Now I work to keep Winter family interests safe by encouraging all the cheats, thieves, and liars to stay honorable in other, painful ways. The East End isn’t a ballroom, my lady. We do not bow and curtsy. We fight for everything we have, and then when we have it, we do everything we can to defend what is ours.”
He had been an assassin. She felt lightheaded. Had he…killed?
Her gaze dropped to his hands. So strong, those long fingers tempting and yet mayhap dangerous. The inking of the dagger on the top of his hand taunted her. It was situated between his thumb and forefinger, black and bold and feral.
She shivered against her will.
“Fearful now, darling?” he asked, leaning toward her and lowering his head so their lips almost grazed once more. “You need not be. I protect my family’s holdings from enemies. Not from frivolous virgins who lower themselves to kissing a commoner.”
“Is that the way all the ladies you seduce think of you?” she asked before she could think better of the question. “That you are a commoner? That they are your betters?”
The moment they fled her lips, she wished she could call the questions back.
The other ladies—she must not think of them. Moreover, there was something of far greater import she must force herself to think of. Mr. Blade Winter was far more dangerous than she had supposed.
“Darling, I hate to tell you, butyouare the one who seducedme,” he said, catching her chin in a gentle grip, tilting her face up to meet his.
How dare he suggest such a thing?
“You are wrong, Mr. Winter.”
“Mmm. Did you not kiss me first?”
Good heavens.He was correct. Shehadbeen the one who had kissed him first. What had she been thinking? Moreover, what was she doing, lingering with him now, putting her reputation in increasing danger with each passing moment?
