Page 23 of Winter's Waltz
He did not suppose it was something kind, so he didn’t deign to request clarification. He expected to have far more opposition from her before he was finished here.
Best to get on with it.
He took a deep breath. “Miss Winter, I do not think you should sleep alone.”
Her mouth dropped open. For an indeterminate span of time, she stared at him, unspeaking.
And then she began to laugh. Uproariously.
She laughed until tears were streaming down her cheeks, taking the remnants of soot with them, and then she dashed at her cheeks. “And who is it you reckon ought to sleep with me, Marquess? You?”
“Yes, as it happens.” Because he was the only bloody man beneath this roof he trusted not to attempt to bed her.
For now.
As in gambling, wooing a woman was all about timing. Too bloody bad he was terrible at the green baize. When it came to seducing the fairer sex, he was far more adept.
“No.”
He had known she would protest, of course. Max had been turning this scenario over in his mind as their duty on the fire line had dwindled and finally come to an end. He was prepared with a sound argument.
“Someone tried to burn down your establishment tonight,” he pressed. “You are weary and vulnerable. The kitchen is scarcely secured, in ruins as it is. You should not be alone.”
“Alone is the only way I’ll sleep, Marquess. Go and tup your ladybird if you need to get the poison out.”
By God.
“Get the poison out?”
“Making the beast with two backs,” she elaborated. “Do the feather-bed jig. Whatever you like to call it. I ain’t letting you into my bed.”
Had there ever existed a woman quite like her? Max sincerely doubted so.
His father would be appalled to hear a female with such a vulgar tongue. Max couldn’t lie; her disregard for all things polite was refreshing. And enough to keep his cock half-hard whenever he was in her presence.
That would wait.
Timing, he reminded himself.
“No making of a beast or jigs shall be conducted, empress,” he told her, keeping the levity from his expression by exerting the utmost will.
If he laughed at her, she was likely to plant him a facer. And he was utterly serious about her welfare. He had no intention of leaving her alone. She could be as stubborn as she liked. He was resting in her chamber for the next few hours, and so was Arthur.
“Ha! That’s what all the coves say. Then they’re trying to ram their tongues down your throat and put your hand on their pego.”
Fury lanced him. “Who has dared to do that to you?”
He would find every one of them and blacken their eyes.
She shook her head. “No one for some time. I learned to protect myself. That’s why I don’t need you, Marquess. Go to your room. Get some sleep.”
That was not happening.
“Arthur and I will sleep on the floor.” He glanced down at her three-legged canine, who was as animated and active as any dog he had ever met with all four legs. “Eh, lad?”
Arthur barked obediently.That’s a good lad.
Max raised a brow and gave her a meaningful look. “You see? Arthur agrees with me.”
