“I think you are teasing me, Mr. Winter,” she said, clutching her books to her chest.
Auntie Agatha was probably looking for her. She was Felicity’s chaperone for this country house party. Rather remiss at her task, it was true. But eventually, she noted Felicity’s absence. She would likely be noting it by now.
Felicity really ought to go at once, instead of remaining here in this maddening man’s presence.
He leaned nearer, stealing her breath once more. “If I were teasing you,” he said slowly, lowering his head so that he was devastatingly close, “you would know it, Lady Felicity.”
He had gotten her name right that time.
But that wasn’t what was making her dizzy. Or what was making her sway toward him, until his breath coasted over her lips in the prelude to a kiss she wanted, no matter how much she shouldn’t.
It was the connection between them. She had felt it yesterday, in his chamber. A stunning sense of awareness, a remarkable difference, when their gazes had first clashed. She had told herself it was impossible. She had blamed her response on the blow she had taken to the head when she had rapped it beneath his bed.
She realized she had been wrong. Because it was still here, simmering between them. Growing bigger and more pronounced with each passing second.
“You are terribly forward, sir,” she murmured, as if it were an insult.
It was not.
She wanted him to be more forward.
To kiss her.
No, Felicity. You must not. Remember why you have come here, Esme and Cassandra. You need a husband. This beautiful scoundrel is not what you need.
“I pride myself on it,” the devil said with a smirk.
A smirk that told her he knew the effect he had upon her.
She blinked, forcing herself from whatever spell had settled over her. She could not afford to make a mistake. To be ruined. Felicity clutched the books to her chest as if they were a shield.
“I have no doubt you do,” she managed, dipping into a passable curtsy.
If Auntie Agatha had witnessed it, she would have scolded her. The form was all wrong. Then again, if Auntie Agatha had witnessed any of Felicity’s behavior just now, she would have likely packed them into the first carriage headed back for London.
Reminding herself of her duty, Felicity skirted Mr. Winter and continued on her way to the library, feeling his too-blue gaze on her with every step she took.
