Page 33 of Winter's Waltz
“Worse than a scourge,” Gen said at Max’s side. “A spider-arsed prick is more like.”
Spider-arsed?
Quite inventive, even for her standards. Max had to admit he was both impressed and nonplussed at the oath. For instance, what did it mean? And did he truly wish to know?
Max winced.
“Fine praise coming from a petticoat who pretends to be a cull.” Sutton tipped an imaginary hat to her, as if impressed with her insult.
The tension in the room was thicker than molasses.
“I ain’t pretending anything, Sutton. I am who I am, and I answer to no man.”
“No man, eh?” Sutton raised a brow. “What’s the cove doing here, then? Working off his latest debts by bedding the Winter spinster because no one else will?”
Max saw Gen’s hand sliding into her waistcoat and decided it was time to attempt civility before she decided to throw a blade at the mocking hell owner before them. He stepped forward, putting himself between Gen and Sutton, in the fashion of a wall.
“You will apologize for the insult to Miss Winter,” he told Sutton coolly.
“We’ve an old feud, her and me,” Sutton said, defiant. “I ain’t apologizing.”
Hell and damnation.
Max did not want to think about what may have been the source of such a feud, but he was willing to wager the dukedom he was set to inherit one day that it had something to do with Sutton lusting after Gen. What man would not? She was beautiful, but it was her daring, wit, and refusal to bend to the world around her that rendered her so much more alluring. Intoxicating, in fact.
He wanted her more than he had ever wanted the next turn of a card.
Which was bloody terrifying, and nothing he could concern himself with in this moment as he faced a scowling Jasper Sutton.
“I do not give a damn what your feud is, Sutton,” he said calmly. “You will apologize to Miss Winter.”
“This fop speaks for you now, aye?” Sutton prodded Gen. “Thought you wanted nothing to do with coves, fancy or otherwise.”
Gen was at Max’s side again, her chin high. “I speak for myself, Sutton. And I never said I wanted nothing to do with coves. I said I wanted nothing to do withyou.”
Ah.He had not been far from the mark with his supposition. That had to sting Sutton. The acknowledgment simultaneously stung and pleased him. Stung him because he did not like to think of her in a situation with another man where she would have cause to rebuff his romantic overtures. Pleased because she had not treated him in the same fashion.
The way she had kissed him back yesterday had been enough to make a man go up in flames. And Max very nearly had done. Such a conflagration would have destroyed what the original fire had not, he had no doubt.
Sutton’s jaw tightened, but he showed no other sign of emotion. His countenance was impassive and cold as ever. “Begs the question what you’re doing here, then?”
Max held his tongue, allowing Gen to speak, knowing it was not his place. She would likely deliver him a blistering rebuke for leaping to her defense as it was.
“There was a fire in my club,” she said. “Last night. Someone broke a window and set my kitchens ablaze.”
Sutton nodded. “Aye. I heard about it. Sit.”
Sutton ought to have known better than to command Genevieve Winter to do anything. Max almost took pity on the man. His autocratic nature left him sorely unmanned in a battle of wits with her. He was clearly accustomed to everyone fearing him and bowing to his every wish.Hell, Max had been on the receiving end of Sutton’s mercenaries’ fists, so he could well understand why people feared the man.
“I’ll not sit,” Gen said. “This call will be short. What do you know about the fire?”
Sutton’s expression went mulish. “That it was set.”
“What else?” she prodded through gritted teeth.
“Nothing,” Sutton snapped. “Do you think I did it, Gen?”
Max’s protective instincts rose. Why the devil was he being so familiar? Daring to call her Gen? Max had only just allowed himself to think of her in such terms, and that was after his tongue had been in her mouth.
