Page 30 of When a Lady Dares
She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. How this man could unnerve her with the slightest change of his expression. “Perhaps we should turn our attention back to our purpose in coming here.”
“Of course. But first…” Gently extending her hand against his, he shifted his attention back to her palm. His forehead crinkled in a frown. “Now this line…is a bit of a puzzle.”
His fingertip skimmed over her flesh, setting off delicious little tingles. She steadied her voice. “What is it that confounds you?”
“Your love line…it indicates you are a woman of great passion.”
“And that puzzles you?”
He lifted his gaze to lock with hers. “You’ve grown adept at hiding that emotion, haven’t you?”
“I’ve made no effort to hide my passion, for lack of a better word. Not from you, nor anyone else.”
“Is that so?”
She pressed her lips into what she hoped appeared a placid smile. “One has no need to hide what does not exist.”
His eyes flashed with what seemed a silent rebuttal. “I sense another challenge. Shall we make it more interesting this time?”
Chapter Nine
A challenge? My, the man was incorrigible. Staring down at her hand, clasped within his long, warm fingers, Sophie reined in her rampaging thoughts. She tamped down the impulse to dash her wine across his too-handsome-for-her-own-good face.
If he persisted in pressing his case, she’d have no choice but to extricate herself from this situation. After all, even a woman employed by the likes of Trask would not tolerate such scandalous innuendo. A bit of indignation might add to the authenticity of her role as the charlatan’s assistant. But she couldn’t chance driving Stanwyck away before she’d deduced why he’d come to Trask.
She regarded him beneath her lashes, detecting the amusement in his eyes. She had nothing to fear from him. Of that, she felt reasonably certain. Still, she had to maintain the upper hand. She could not jeopardize her mission for something so trivial as a flirtation.
If only he’d stop looking at her like a fox eyeing a tasty hen. It wasn’t as if he believed her defenseless. The enticing glint in his eyes made it clear he savored a challenge.
“I assure you that will not be necessary,” she managed in a cool tone.
“You are quite sure?” He made no effort to disguise the teasing notes in his tone. “A deeper exploration of the subject might prove enlightening.”
With a curt inclination of her head, she cast a speaking glance to her nearly full crystal glass, if only to warn him he trod on perilous ground. “I am afraid I must disagree.”
“Very well. Our experiment might’ve proven rather interesting. Perhaps another time.” His fingers uncurled, releasing her hand from his hold. “Shall we change the subject?”
“That may be advisable, given your desire to make contact with your sire before the entrée is served.”
“And what of your guide? I take it she believes in making an entrance.”
Reaching for her glass, Sophie brought the vessel to her lips. Keeping her gaze fixed on him, she took another sip. Perhaps it was time for Esme to put in an appearance.
“I sense her presence.” Sophie pulled in a deep breath and, with a theatrical flair, closed her eyes. “Esme is here.”
A discreet throat-clearing behind her back cut through her concentration, and she opened her eyes. Standing to the side, the waiter balanced a soup tureen on a silver tray.
“I could not help but overhear the lady. You are expecting another guest, sir?”
Tiny crinkles formed around Stanwyck’s eyes, but when he replied, his tone was matter-of-fact. “None that are your concern. Thank you.”
“Very good, sir.” The waiter went about the task of serving the first course of turtle soup with practiced efficiency. He turned to Stanwyck. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Not at this time.”
The waiter briskly turned on his heel and took his leave.
Stanwyck took a spoonful. “Do have some, Miss Devereaux. Is it to your taste?”
