Page 3 of My Kind of Scoundel
Mischief—the harmful kind—swirled in Miss Darrow’s stormy green eyes. “Only a woman lacking in self-respect would seek the company of a libertine.”
Theo clasped his injured shoulder. The damn thing still pained him. “You wound me, madam. Though it would seem we have some things in common. Arranging secret meetings and lying to hide your deception are the traits of a scoundrel.”
A sly smile touched her lips, lips he’d admired before discovering they belonged to a devil. “You make an excellent point, sir.” She slipped the gold button on her cloak, drew the garment from around her shoulders and draped it over the empty seat beside him. “Perhaps keeping you company is the best way to achieve my goal.”
Aramis and Naomi grinned. Apparently, they found the situation more entertaining than the farce on stage.
“I don’t recall inviting you to sit,” Theo said when the lady gathered her skirts and settled into the plush velvet chair.
Miss Darrow leaned closer, filling his nostrils with the sweet scent of jasmine. “As you said, I am suffering from a dreadful malady. An obsession with my patient. An addiction I cannot control.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “I mean to hound you night and day until you give me what I want.”
Oh, he would give her what she wanted, and he wasn’t referring to the silly sewing box. Despite trying to avoid staring at her soft breasts, pressed enticingly against the fashionable pink gown, his traitorous gaze dipped.
Merciful Lord!
This woman would make a monk question his vows.
Thankfully, her perfidious character lessened her appeal.
“I know what you want,” he uttered, draping a languid arm over the rail of her chair. “But I have taken a vow of celibacy and have no plans to make love to any woman, least of all you.”
Her eyes blazed. “No. The only thing you make love to is your own reflection. I suspect there’s an enormous mirror at the foot of your bed, littered with smudge marks where you’ve practised kissing.”
A chuckle burst from Aramis’ lips, though he quickly averted his gaze to the stage when Naomi nudged him.
“You’ll never know, Miss Darrow.” Theo’s blood simmered with the need to prove a point. “Be assured, I’m no amateur when it comes to kissing.” He could have the lady panting in seconds.
The flash of curiosity in her eyes accompanied her satisfied grin. “The truth is, Mr Chance, I know exactly what you keep in your bedchamber at Fortune’s Den.”
It was a lie. Women weren’t permitted inside the gaming hell, let alone given leave to search their private rooms. “Feel free to enlighten me.” This was another attempt at manipulation, a common stratagem of the fairer sex.
“There’s a large gilt mirror propped against the wall,” she remarked casually, diverting her attention from him to the unfolding farce on stage.
“Most people keep such an object in their chamber.”
“The entire room is painted midnight blue. I suspect your carved ebony bed came from France. The opulent rug is Persian.”
What the devil!
His pulse rose a notch.
The minx excelled at this game.
“No doubt Delphine has been exercising her tongue again.” What had his sister said about him? Perhaps she had spoken of his selfless deeds, the kind gestures that made a man look feeble. “They say a woman shares her deepest secrets with her modiste.”
The lady looked at him, the shadow of an unknown burden dulling her eyes. “Yes, you’d be surprised what information people entrust to a stranger. I admit, Delphine told me your room was blue when we spoke about the colour of her favourite gown.”
While Miss Darrow’s confession brought a triumphant smile to his lips, a subtle undercurrent of disappointment left him perplexed.
Was it wrong to wish she had been a more formidableadversary? Why did he enjoy these verbal tussles? What was it he liked about this cat-and-mouse game?
“And I’m quite certain I mentioned my bed during my convalescence,” he said. Having been force-fed opium by the doctor, he’d been drowsy at the time and could have told her anything. “That’s how you know it’s ebony.”
“Perhaps.” There was a playful glint in her eyes as she proceeded to taunt him with facts. “You might wonder how I know you sleep with your right leg out of the bedsheets or that the third board from the door creaks.”
His heart leapt a little.
But he firmed his jaw and studied her intently.
