Page 75 of A Deal with the Devil

“Suitably mysterious for an assassin.”

Devil raised his brows. “He’s not an assassin.”

“He works for you, doesn’t he? And assassin sounds much fiercer than… What’s your actual title?”

MacLeod grinned. “I don’t have one.”

“Pain in my ass,” Devil supplied.

“I keep him alive,” MacLeod countered.

“Well done, you.” Kitty nodded. “I imagine it is a full-time occupation.”

“People do tend to react somewhat violently to his presence.”

“It’s the scowl.”

“I don’t scowl,” Devil muttered. Scowling.

Kitty was suddenly enjoying herself immensely. Especially when he almost smiled. His almost-smile was her favorite. Even though she should not even have a favorite.

He led her back to Pride, with its mirrors reflecting dozens of Devils back at her, each more mysterious than the last. “Let’s get this visit over with,” he grumbled. “Tadworth and his bloody toads.”

“Oh dear, are you afraid of toads?” Kitty pushed because it was the most fun she had all week. And because she was still considering biting all along the muscles of his shoulders. His hips. His thighs.

“No.”

“Ah,” she said, innocence floating off her like dandelion fluff. “Is it your arm? Does it pain you very much?” She knew it didn’t—he had gripped her with too much delicious strength in the study. “If you are too weak to accompany me, I do understand.”

“Just get in the carriage, firecracker,” he growled.

She giggled all the way down the walkway.

And she was quite sure she had never giggled a day in her life.