Description
“Let us say I have excellent instincts when it comes to understanding people,” Maeve said.
“And do you understand me?” A gold-tipped patrician brow lifted.
“You are far too complicated.”
“But are you not possessed of second sight? Do you not read minds?” His hand tightened around her waist, and his eyes dropped to her lips as if he desired to kiss her again.
She gently pulled back, scarcely able to ignore the quiver in her stomach. “I believe that we are dancing closer than is deemed proper.”
“Are you here with anyone who will redress such behavior?” His voice, deep, rich and cultured, could have charmed a cobra. But his face was hard, jaded and knowing. She was aware the Marquess of Huntingdon was playing with her, amusing himself at her expense.
“I believe that was a rhetorical question.”
He lifted the stone of her necklace, and where his fingers touched her skin she felt as if on flame. Surely, she must have imagined that burning sensation.
“Is this a rough diamond that you wear?”
“Part of a crystal,” she answered. She would not tell him more than that. He need not know about her. One could not trust a fashionable rake such as him.
“Unusual, like its owner.” His eyes lingered on her body.
He pulled her close again and she felt the raw power in him, the strong virile energy of the man. God help her, she found him as attractive as he was intimidating.
