Page 139 of Dukes for Dessert

“You can stay out of my way.”

To her utter astonishment, he turned to the side like an opening door, making a sweeping motion for her to pass.

She shot forward, painfully aware that she needed to traverse three cars of crowded hallways…

Drat. She should have stayed on the platform and boarded on Weller’s car, though a look out the window told her the platform was no less congested than the halls.

“Don’t follow me,” she snapped to Sebastian over her shoulder. “It’s conspicuous. Suspicious, even.”

“But it isn’t,” he corrected. “I’m often seen following pretty women.”

For some reason, his words tasted both sweet and sour. “You should keep your eye on Weller,” she muttered. “That is how you can help.”

“I was, but he is busy doing what I’d rather be doing with you.”

She turned with an aggravated growl that only seemed to amuse him further. “Might you not be—whatever this is?” She hadn’t the words for it.

Charming? No, too infuriating for that.

Romantic? No, too wicked for that.

“I beg you to be silent so that I might focus on the task at hand.”

To her surprise, he said not another word, but remained her shadow. It occurred to Veronica to be incensed at his audacity, but then his presence was actually useful. The crowd parted for him like a biblical hero—or plague—making way for the width of his shoulders and the force of his presence. Sebastian Moncrieff didn’t merely occupy space. He claimed it. He owned it. He was the master of whatever ground he walked upon, and she was currently under his protection.

A part of her wanted to resent that fact.

To begrudge the feminine pleasure it brought her.

But there wasn’t the time for that, either.

When they reached the Weller car, she went straight to Arthur’s cabin and began to rifle through the few drawers bolted to the wall by the expensively appointed bed.

In contrast, Sebastian flipped over the mattress and checked within every pillowcase before lifting Weller’s entire trunk and dumping the contents on the bed.

That was one way to do it, Veronica supposed.

Finding nothing, she pulled open a cupboard and froze.

“Blast and damn it all! The papers must be in this safe.” Stronger curses perched on her lips, but she didn’t allow them to escape.

“Say it.” The dark command rumbled so close to her ear, she could feel the warmth of his breath tease at wisps of her hair.

“Say what?”

“The word that’s itching your tongue. Say it. I imagine it’s something like… Fucking hell.”

That word.

In her ear.

From behind.

Fucking.

“I don’t say such things,” she informed him, her voice stiffer than her melting legs. “I’m a lady.”

“It’ll make you feel better,” he promised.

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