Page 26 of The Devil and the Heiress
Ice-cold water shot through his veins, followed by a wave of anger. “Did he hurt you?”
She glanced up, perhaps startled at the ferocity of his question. “No, but he was very aggressive. I managed to slip away before we were found.” She placed the butter knife down beside her plate, and he noticed her fingers were trembling.
He reached over and covered them with his own. His breath hitched when she turned her hand over and gave his a gentle squeeze. “Did you tell your parents what happened?”
She frowned. “My mother didn’t seem concerned. I’m not certain if she didn’t believe me, or if she merely didn’t understand what the fuss was about. It’s not as if anything actually happened.” Taking a deep breath, she withdrew her hand and covered her face. “Perhaps she’s right. Perhaps I made too much of a fuss.”
“Violet.” She glanced at him in shock. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Miss Crenshaw...” She stared at him as if somehow only seeing him now for the first time. He was not at all certain what the look meant. “If he made you feel uncomfortable, if he touched you without your leave, either of those are unacceptable.”
She dragged her gaze from his eyes to his mouth in a slow and weighted caress. “Thank you,” she whispered. Blushing again, she picked up her abandoned piece of bread and took a bite as she gave him an abashed smile.When she swallowed, she said, “To answer your question, I’ll be twenty soon.”
Taken aback at the abrupt change in topic, he nodded and reached for the serving tongs to place lamb on each of their plates. “I am only eight years older than you.” The fact made him feel slightly less the lecher.
“That’s perfect for a brother. My brother Max is eight years older than I am.”
“Perfect for a brother... What about a husband?”
She stilled. “What do you mean?”
He tried not to look at her as he moved the food around on his plate. His appetite for the meal had suddenly deserted him, while his appetite for her had moved to the forefront of his thoughts. The blood warmed and thickened like honey in his veins, but it was too soon for any of that. He didn’t want to frighten her. “Perhaps it would be more believable and raise less suspicion if we present ourselves as a married couple, like the innkeeper assumed.”
“Oh.” She took a bite of a roasted potato and chewed it thoughtfully before saying, “Yes, I can see your point. I should have a different name. Something common.”
“Jane, perhaps.” He grinned and watched the blush return to her cheeks.
Her gaze tracked downward in embarrassment before darting over to meet his. “I’ve been rereadingJane Eyre. I hope you don’t mind being Rochester. It was the first name that came to mind.” He shook his head, and she added, “As long as you don’t have a wife hidden away in an attic somewhere, I will be Jane.”
“You are in luck, my lady. You are the closest thing I have to a wife.”
“Good.” She giggled, but it wasn’t a girlish sound. It held the soft husk of her voice and raked pleasantly down his spine.
“Perhaps we should address your accent if you’re to be presented as a proper Englishwoman.”
“Oh yes, yes, we should. Actually, I have already been practicing. I should have used it earlier with the innkeeper.”
“Let’s hear it, then.”
She nodded and took a drink of wine. Clearing her throat a few times like a singer preparing to belt out a lyric, she sat back from the table and squared her shoulders. “Good evening, my good lord. Would you be so kind as to pass the salt?”
Her face elongated with each syllable as if the words themselves were difficult to form and required the use of her entire face. Her voice had gone frightfully high as she skipped over the vowels, clipping the syllables with precision. The attempt was appalling.
She stared at him expectantly, and he tried to keep a straight face but failed. Laughter came tumbling out of him. She giggled, then snorted, and they both laughed harder. Shaking her head, she hid her face in her hands. “That was terrible.”
He laughed harder, until his sides hurt. “I should not laugh,” he managed to say.
“No. You should. I failed miserably.” Her eyes were filled with tears of mirth.
This could be his life. Her beautiful face could be across his table every day. The thought was enough to steal his breath, because it was not at all unpleasant.
She would be his wife.
“Are you quite all right?” she asked. The warmth of her small hand covered his. Before he could stop himself, he turned his hand over so that his palm enveloped hers. Heat licked its way up his wrist. She felt it, too. Her eyes were dilated, and the air seemed to have thickened around them. His fingertips moved in gentle circles across her palm, seeking to draw more of her need to the surface.
“Is everything to your satisfaction, milord?” The innkeeper strode into the room, his gaze locked on the veryunbrotherly way Christian was caressing her hand. She pulled her hand away immediately.
“Exceptional,” said Christian, unable to take his eyes off of her. “We won’t have need of you anymore tonight.” He was annoyed at the interruption, but even more at his inability to keep his hands to himself. She would need time to become accustomed to him. Perhaps he was planning to take her choices away from her, but she still deserved a proper courtship, such as it was.
“Yes, milord. Your rooms are ready.” He backed out of the room but stopped at the door. “When your sister is ready to retire, my girl Katie can assist her.” There was no mistaking the disapproval in his tone or the sharpness of his gaze before he left them.
