Page 131 of Pride: The Rogue
All the pain and regret over Latimer faded. As the same instincts of self-preservation that’d kept she and Verity alive, kicked in.
“Never say you are disappointed to find me for company, sweet?”
Sweet.
With the skills and warnings and lessons Livian’s brother-in-law instilled in her, she’d learned not to fear any man—and shehadn’t.
That was, she hadn’tuntilthe night she’d awakened to discover a nighttime marauder, Lachlan Latimer, looming ominously over her.
From that meeting on, to what, Livian knew would be the remainder of her life, there’d never be a man stronger, more powerful, or more formidable than Lachlan.
This gentleman before Livian now, the affable, smiling Viscount Forfar, though, somehow stirred an even greater disquiet than Lachlan ever had as a menacing stranger.
“You are very quiet, Miss Lovelace,” Lord Forfar noted, and with the smile in his voice, one would think he’d found Livian’s silence of the utmost hilarity.
“Forgi—” Livian stopped herself from giving him an apology he didn’t deserve. “I sought some time to myself,” she said, pointed in her words and in the look she gave the door panel behind the viscount.
“Ahh, I see. I should have realized as much.”
Livian frowned. Despite her desire to not engage him, she found herself seeking clarification anyway. “My lord?”
“I’ve noticed you do enjoy time alone, Miss Lovelace,” he remarked ponderously.
He’d noticedthat, but not that she wanted him gone. Not that she’d expected anything different.
“Did you?” she asked carefully.
“Oh, yes.” Lord Forfar began a slow, casual walk away from the panel. “I notice a great deal.” He paused. “Especiallywhere you are concerned, Miss Lovelace.”
Warily, Livian eyed the meandering path he took, keeping her gaze on his every move. “I…do not know what to say, my lord.”
Even with some four or five paces between them, Livian’s tension remained heightened.
At last, Lord Forfar stopped his almost predatorial stroll and dropped his hip on the curved edge of a camel-back sofa.
A warning bell tinkled somewhere in Livian’s brain.
“Here, you’ve been so very good at conversing, only to go silent, now,” the viscount teased, like a fat cat toying with his prey.
“It is hardly appropriate for us to haveanydiscussion here, alone.” Livian gave him a cool once-over. “Though being as you pointed out, agentleman,you require no reminder that it is inappropriate for a man to approach and speak to an unmarried lady.”
He chuckled; the emptiness of that laugh sent an icy tendril up the ridge of her erect spine.
“Given your upbringing, Miss Lovelace, it is a wonderyouknow any rules of propriety.”
She stiffened. The jeering emphasis in that single word conveyed, when it came to his earlier display of respect, the viscount was done with the pretense.
“You forget yourself, Lord Forfar.” She infused the iron-hard warning Bertha used to turn away creditors.
The viscount chuckled. “Here, I’d hoped you would be appropriately flattered by the close attention I’d paid you and your movements, Miss Lovelace.” The viscount’s lips, full and soft, and better suited a lady, curled into a teasing, smile. “Or, at the very least, curious as to what it is I noticed?”
She weighed her words. “It would be presumptuous of me to either assume, my lord, or ask, questions into your musings. As such, I must be left to merely ponder.”
Lord Forfar pressed a hand against his chest. “Why, Miss Lovelace, are youflirtingwith me?”
This time, the warning bells in Livian’s head blared.
“My lord,” she managed to say calmly, “I am no flirt.”
