Page 17 of One Night with a Prince
Blast him. She tipped up her chin, determined to have the last word. “I need my shawls. I get cold.”
“I’ll keep you warm enough, don’t worry.”
“Byrne—” she began in sheer exasperation.
“Oh, all right.” He turned to Mrs. Watts. “And a shawl.”
“Three shawls,” Christabel said.
“Oneshawl,” he countered. “In silk.” When she frowned, he added, “If you want more, you’ll have to pay for them yourself.”
He knew perfectly well she couldn’t afford such things. “Then I’ll just use my old ones.”
“Of wool, no doubt.”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
He groaned. “Fine. Three silk shawls.” Her triumphant glance made him add, “But don’t think I’ll let you wrap yourself up like a mummy after I’ve gone to the trouble of buying gowns that display your charms.”
He lowered his voice to a confidential murmur. “Either play the part or don’t. Stokely will be suspicious enough as it is.”
Her face fell. He was right. “Very well, one shawl will do, I suppose.”
The next hour was taken up in sorting through a dizzying array of fabrics, styles, and colors. The fabrics were the most exquisite she’d ever seen or touched. She’d never cared much about clothes, but then she’d never had gowns made of fabrics like these—silks that flowed over one’s hand like water, muslins so soft and delicate she feared tearing them with a single touch. As a lieutenant, Philip hadn’t been able to afford such. Then, along with his estate he’d inherited a mountain of debt, which he’d built higher every year.
But Byrne could clearly afford them. Either that or he was mad. Madnesswould explain his outrageously bold color choices—brilliant reds, vibrant blues, and dramatic greens. Didn’t he realize she wasn’t one of his stunning society ladies, who could easily wear clothes that drew attention to themselves?
When she protested, he told her, “Trust me, they’ll suit you perfectly.”
“But I thought pink and cream were the fashion.” That’s what Philip had always preferred her to wear.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“For schoolgirls coming out, not for a grown woman. And certainly not for you.”
When Mrs. Watts held particular fabrics up to her face for him to choose, Christabel saw in the mirror what he meant. Even she could see that the rose satin made her cheeks glow a healthy color, and the holly green crepe made her eyes sparkle. She’d always looked rather sallow in her pink gowns. The fact that he’d been right perversely annoyed her. “You seem to know a great deal about women’s clothes.”
His slow smile sparked something hot low in her belly. “I know what I like.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “And what makes a man desire a woman.”
A delicious shiver coursed through her. Curse the randy devil, he also knew what made a woman desire a man. Him and his smiles and extravagant gifts and commanding voice—all designed to send a female’s pulse into a frenzied gallop and melt her resistance into a puddle. Well, he wouldn’t do that to her. No, indeed. She’d already allowed one man’s flatteries and flirtations to tempt her into an unwise marriage; she wasn’t about to let it tempt her into an illicit liaison with a devil who put his own gain above his conscience. If he even possessed a conscience. Once they’d settled on the gowns, Mrs. Watts drew out her measuring tape. “If you will come this way, my lady…” Mrs. Watts led her to a corner of the room where a little dais had been built to accommodate a previous resident’s passion for exhibiting. “Stand up here, please. And forgive me, but you must remove your gown so I can measure you in your corset.”
“Of course.” As she mounted the little steps, she glanced expectantly at Byrne, who responded by taking a seat in her favorite armchair. “Byrne! You can’t watch this.”
“Why not?” The sneaky devil had the audacity to smile. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
He was taking this role too far, and he knew it. “Which is why you don’t need to see it now,” she persisted.
“Ah, but I have to make sure everything is done to my specifications.” He glanced at the dressmaker.
“Don’t mind me.”
Mrs. Watts’s plump cheeks turned a rosy sheen, but she gave him a cursory nod. That’s what Byrne’s extravagance bought him—compliance from dressmakers and servants. Fine, she would let him watch her be measured. She couldn’t very well quarrel with him in front of the dressmaker. Besides, hewas paying for the gowns. She supposed he had a right to have a say in it. But his extravagance would not buyher . He’d find that out soon enough. Pretending she didn’t care in the least if he saw her half-dressed, she stared him down as the dressmaker helped her remove her gown. Watching him proved a mistake, however, for once she stood atop the dais in her corset and chemise, her pride forced her to keep looking as his gaze roamed wherever it pleased. It took all her strength to fight a blush. No man had ever gazed upon her like that before. Even Philip had never really taken the time to look at her. A lusty soldier, he’d been quick to join her in bed, and just asGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlquick to retire to his own when he was done.
Somehow she suspected that “quick” wouldn’t apply to Mr. Byrne. While Mrs. Watts took her measurements and scribbled them in her notebook, he did some measuring of his own. His eyes lingered on her bosom with disquieting interest, then examined her cinched-in waist and too-ample hips. When he was done with his thorough assessment, his heated gaze made a leisurely trip back up her body to fix on her face.
And in his eyes, she saw the truth that he wasn’t even bothering to hide. He would stop at nothing to have her in his bed, bargain or no.
She cursed as a wayward thrill coursed down her spine. The impudence of the man! Well, she would just showhim . She turned to the dressmaker with a smooth smile. “I do hope my friend hasn’t embarrassed you too much with his antics. Sometimes he can be most outrageous. I wouldn’t be surprised if after he chose all these gowns, he changed his mind about them and refused to pay.”
Mrs. Watts didn’t so much as frown.
