“Nevertheless, you can agree you have caused enough difficulties for our family,” Winter said.
“Now it isourfamily,” Blade grumbled, plainly seeing the difference. “What do you want from me? Shall I carve a promise into my flesh? I came here to calm the waters, not to bedevil them. All I want is whisky and a comfortable place to avoid everyone for the next thirteen days.”
Hertford and Winter exchanged a look.
Blade read it. Disbelief.
Fair enough; his reputationwasblack.
“I promise,” he bit out. “You have my word. If I cause any trouble for you, I will give you all my weapons and my head on a pike. Trust me, I have had more than my fair share of trouble and quim both these last few weeks. All I seek is forgiveness.”
Once more, Lady Felicity’s face rose in his mind. Haunting, tempting, taunting.
He thrust all thoughts of her away and held his half brother’s gaze.
Devereaux Winter studied him for a long time. At last, he nodded. “I trust you, Blade. Do not disappoint me.”
Well, hell.Mayhap wealthy nibs like his half brother did not understand that sooner or later, everyone in one’s life was a source of disappointment. But never mind that. He would learn the lesson in his own time, and hopefully Blade would not be the one to do the teaching.
All he had to do was keep to himself.
That ought to be easy.
Felicity rounded acorner in the hall and ran into something tall, hard, warm, and smelling of leather and…citrus and musk.
Mr. Blade Winter.
She would recognize that maddening scent anywhere.
Her palms instinctively flattened against the muscled wall of his chest. She ought to retract them, but there was something about the dratted man that lured her just as it had the day before. His heat seared her.
She pressed herself nearer. For one reckless moment only. Her breasts collided with him, their hips connecting. The air fled her lungs.
Hands gripped her waist, steadying her. His impossibly blue gaze settled on hers.
“Lady Frances,” came that deep, wondrous baritone.
Mocking.
Had he truly forgotten her name once more, or was he merely toying with her? She stared up into his handsome, unreadable countenance, and could not determine which it was.
“Lady Felicity,” she corrected, mustering all the chill she possessed.
But inside,oh, inside, she was aflame.
From a touch, from a collision, from a man she otherwise found arrogant and ill-mannered. An insolent lout. It made no sense. What drew her to him? And why was she not retreating, stepping away, removing her palms from his chest? Why was she instead coasting them over the broad plane, absorbing his warmth and strength?
“Lady Felicity,” he repeated, his tone intimate. His gaze settled on her lips, and it felt like a caress. Or a kiss.
She was breathless. Mindless. An imbecile. My goodness, had she beencaressinghis chest? Felicity yanked her hands away, then gathered her wits and took a step in retreat.
A step in haste, it would appear. She had forgotten she had been carrying a stack of books when she had rounded the corner, and they had fallen to the floor during the course of her impact with Mr. Winter. Now, she tripped over one of them.
It was too late to compensate. She lost her balance and went down on her back in a rustle of silk.
Acute embarrassment washed over her. She had landed upon her rump with unforgiving force, and pain radiated out, cementing her humiliation. She was not ordinarily so graceless. Indeed, all she had to recommend herself was her face and her elegance, since there was no dowry to speak of. How was she going to land a husband at this cursed house party—as she must do, for time was running out—if she could not keep from making a cake of herself before this rogue?
She expected his laughter. More mockery.
