“And don’t forget the marriage-minded mamas on the lookout for their daughters’ ducal conquests.”
“Never. My turn,” he said. “I suspect your first word was not ‘mama’ or ‘papa’ but ‘pony’.”
Engaged in sipping her champagne at the moment of his pronouncement, she gave every appearance of now shooting said champagne through her nose, thanks to the laughter bursting from her lips. It was apparent she could also not decide whether to smile or glare at him. “My lord—”
“Sterling, while we are alone, at the very least, please.”
She sobered. “Very well. Sterling.” She slanted him a peeved look. “That was not well done of you, Sterling. Of course, I would laugh at that nonsense, and I had just taken a sip.”
“All’s fair,” he murmured.In love and war?And which instance was this, precisely?
“For your information, I cannot possibly know my first word. But if your true intent is to claim that I prefer horses to people, you are correct. My turn.” She squared her shoulders. “I speculate that if anyone so much as hints at insulting your sister, you would cheerfully call him out for pistols at dawn.”
“Pistols? A fight to the death? Over a slight?” he scoffed, brows arched. “False, madam.”
That obviously surprised her. “But…you are so very protective of both Caroline and your brother—Harrison, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he replied. "Protective? I suppose I have been accused of that a time or two.”Or ten.“And I do make it my business to guide both of them as needed…”
A sardonic smile curved her mouth.Gawds,but she was beautiful. A face carved by the angels.
“But to challenge someone over some silly slight? Never. As a matter of fact…” He hesitated, wondering whether to share the tale, wondering if she would comprehend how affecting it had been, how devastating.
“What is it?” She searched his eyes.
“When I was a young buck, a few years younger than yourself, I had a friend who challenged another man to a duel—over a woman’s honor. A silly slight. I thought it a grand idea. My friend…he…he died.”
“Oh no.” Her eyes widened, her mouth formed ano, the sparkle in her eyes disappeared. “Oh, my lord. I mean, Sterling. I am sorry.”
And why had he brought up that old nonsense, now, on her wedding day? He shook his head, drained his glass. “Never mind. It was a long time ago.” He cleared his throat. “My turn.”
“But…” She broke off, and he noted then the tell-tale blush creeping up her neck. “Your forfeit.”
Oh, yes.His forfeit. Warmth suffused him, banishing the old, hated memory.
“What will you demand?” she asked in breathless rush.
A slow smile curved his lips. “A kiss, from my wife.”
She swallowed, licked her lips, and pushed to her feet. Then she stepped toward him.
Though he didn’t move so much as a muscle, his heartbeat kicked into a gallop.
Nearing his side, she bent toward him, not so much as blinking. Her sweet scent wafted over him. Then her face wasinches from his. He shifted, angling his head to make himself more accessible.
She closed her eyes and pressed her soft lips to his in a lingering kiss that would have buckled his knees had he been standing. He wanted to drag her across his lap and feast. Through some miracle, he refrained from touching her, though he did kiss her back, thoroughly.
By the time she straightened, his manhood was hard as granite.
“Your turn,” she said, resuming her seat. She looked quite pleased with herself, he noted. She had every right. She had him eating out of the palm of her hand.
“I speculate you endure entire dinner parties, seated between boorish gentlemen, because someone intimated there would be chocolate for dessert.”
She looked utterly shocked. “You…how did you know?”
“What? That you have a penchant for chocolate? One has only to watch you eat a chocolate pudding to know.” She practically made love to the spoon.
The night she’d arrived, after they’d supped, he’d lain awake remembering, uncomfortably erect the whole while but unable to think of anything else.
