Page 70 of The Princess and the Rogue

“Any of those will do,” he said lightly. He cast around for a safer subject. “Have you been enjoying yourself with the dowager duchess?”

She nodded, and he cursed the fact that they were reduced to speaking of such inane things. God, they’d be discussing the weather next, or the dancing. Inches separated them, but it might as well have been a hundred miles.

“Geoffrey gave you a reticule,” he said, and could have kicked himself for sounding like a jealous fool.

“He did. It’s lovely. Although I prefer the giftyougave me.”

“The tiara?”

She shook her head, making the item in question catch the light like hoarfrost in the dawn.

“No.”

She saw his surprise and hastened to explain. “The tiara is, without doubt, the most wonderful present anyone’s ever given me, but I wasn’t thinking of that.” She sent him a secret, confiding smile. “I meant the vial of sleeping potion you gifted me at the Tricorn.”

Seb lifted his brows. “You preferthatto Geoffrey’s reticule?”

“I do. Unless I hit someone over the head with the reticule, it’s of very little use in terms of defense. The tincture, on the other hand, makes me feel invulnerable. It is potential. A chance to control my destiny. It isfreedom.”

Seb tried to ignore the disproportionate amount of gratification her words gave him and failed miserably. The way she said it, so reverently, made him want to give her a vat of the stuff. Hell, he’d order Lagrassse to cook nothing but mandrakes for the next month. She could bathe in it if she wanted to.

The sudden scorching image of her in the bath, flushed and dripping, assailed him, and he almost stumbled.

“All that in a little bottle,” he managed lightly.

She nodded, her eyes bright. “I carry it wherever I go.”

“Even tonight?” he teased. His eyes flicked over her chest. “I can’t imagine where, in that dress.”

“It’s in the pockets of my skirts,” she whispered.

“Well, just remember you swore never to use it on me.”

She laughed up at him. “Of course not.”

They made another swirl around the floor, and Seb realized with a start how effortlessly they danced together.

“I enjoyed meeting your friends,” she said. “They were extremely interesting.”

Seb made a noncommittal sound.

“I should like to meet them again.”

He bit back a silent groan. That was all he needed. For her to be everywhere he went, laughing with his friends, posing an impossible temptation at every turn. Reminding him of everything he wanted and couldn’t have. Napoleon himself couldn’t have devised a worse torture.

The Harlands and the Wyldes stood to one side of the ballroom, watching Seb and Anya dance.

Georgie took a thoughtful sip of her champagne. “No wonder Seb didn’t want to stay for dinner with us the other night. He had all that temptation waiting for him back at the Tricorn.”

“They do make a beautiful couple.” Emmy sighed.

“Like a fairy-tale prince and princess,” Georgie added, her eyes shining.

Their husbands both rolled their eyes.

“You’re blind,” Alex said. “And delusional. They’re arguing. I can tell from here.”

Emmy tilted her head, studying them carefully. “No, I don’t think so. There’s tension there, but it’s not animosity. It’s more like… passion. Barely contained.”

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