Page 60 of Notorious

He gave her a smoldering look. “Always.”

Drusilla felt as if she’d been brushed with fire. He was flirting with her—just as she’d seen him flirt hundreds of times with other women over the past few months. But now he was flirting with her, even though he did not need to expend the effort. She was his under the law to treat however he pleased; he did not need to charm her to bed her.

She realized he was still staring at her in a way that seemed to consume her. In fact, she’d rejected two offers for the supper dance earlier—unheard of for her—hoping he might ask “Yes, I am free.”

He nodded, taking her acquiescence for granted. Drusilla tried to work up some outrage, but found she couldn’t. After all, it was a dance with her he was arrogantly commandeering—how could she dislike that?

“Why do you think Eva would give Visel the supper dance?” he asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve been wondering about that myself.”

He cocked his head. “And you cannot ask her?”

She opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

“Come, Drusilla, why are you two out of sorts with each other? I asked her, but she would not tell me. She is in ill humor tonight—I don’t envy Visel his supper with her. If he is not careful, he will end up with a fork in his forehead or a plate of food in his lap.”

“She is very angry at me.”

“I gathered as much. You don’t wish to tell me why?”

“I will tell you if you demand it, but I would rather not.”

He straightened at her cool tone and clipped words, lowering his foot and stepping back, the intimacy between them gone as suddenly as it had come. “You are under no compunction to share your thoughts or secrets with me.”

He didn’t sound any different, but Drusilla knew her words had hurt him. She reached out and touched his hand, and he glanced down at her, his eyebrows arched, his expression proud and haughty.

“I didn’t mean to repulse you. I would like to tell you, but I would ask you not to speak of it to anyone else.”

“Of course, what you tell me is in confidence.”

His posture was stiff and he was frowning, and she realized she’d impugned his honor yet again: gentlemen did not carry tales. Lord, would she ever get this right?

“Eva came to me with the location and time of your duel. She wanted me to go and watch with her.” She decided to leave out the matter of Eva’s clothing and her Visel-related espionage.

He sucked in a noisy breath and let it out along with a few harsh-sounding words in Arabic. He pinned her with his gaze. “I take it you said no, hence the argument?”

She hesitated, and he sat down beside her. “Go ahead. I will not speak of this to Eva or my parents.”

“I threatened to tell the marquess if she went alone.”

He grimaced. “Ah, I see why she is so angry.”

“Should I not have done so?” she asked, her tone sharp.

He smiled. “Shhh. You remind me of a creature we have back home.”

“I look like a creature?”

“Tsk, my precise wife, you did not listen. I said you remind me of this creature, not that you look like it. It is called a porcupine—you have heard of it?”

“Yes, of course, an animal with some sort of spines?”

“They are covered in sharp quills; it is their defense mechanism—they display their quills when threatened.” He rubbed the top of her hand, his thumb warm through the fine kid glove. “You do the same with me—you always have.” He leaned in and breathed into her ear. “Why do you display your quills? To scare me away?” She sat frozen as he stroked from her hand up her leather-sheathed forearm, not stopping until he reached the place where glove met skin just above her elbow. She shivered with pleasure.

“I do no such thing.” Her voice was breathy and not her own.

“Mm-hmm, you do.” He brushed her lobe with his lips as he whispered, “Put down your quills, Drusilla. I would like to come closer and touch you.”