Page 45 of Heart of Iron
“I’m so sorry my company’s wearying you.”
Leaning back on his hand, he slid her feet up so he could sit properly.He did look tired, the scrape of his stubble shadowing his jaw and his eyes darker than usual.“It ain’t your company.Last night someone decided to torch a shop Blade’s offered his protection to.Had to find ’em.Some drunk fool who nearly shat himself when he saw us.So gin-soaked he hadn’t even seen the pair of crossed daggers carved into the door.”
“Fine,” she said, sitting up.“Perhaps we’ll save the dancing for later.”
“No more lecturin’ either.”
Lena’s lips firmed.“No dancing.No instruction.Perhaps you’d find a demonstration better?”
“Definitely.”
With a little smile, she shifted to her knees.The door remained open and every so often Mrs.Wade popped her head in, but for the moment they were alone.And she felt like teaching him a lesson about finding her company wearying.
“Tell me,” she murmured.“How does a woman demonstrate her availability as a potential thrall?”
“Ain’t the foggiest.”
Dragging her skirts behind her, Lena stood and crossed to the cherry bowl, adding an extra little swish to her stride.Picking up the gilded bowl, she settled beside him, her emerald skirts brushing his thighs.It was finer than what she usually wore for day dress, but he would never know that.
Will tensed.She’d never before realized how much coiled power his muscular frame held, but it was almost vibrating off him.
“She wears white, to begin with,” Lena said, tugging another cherry out of the bowl.“But only during the evening, for it’s considered passé during the day.Cherry?”
He stared at her as she lifted it to his lips.For a moment she wasn’t sure he would take it from her, but then he reached out and bit into the sweet fruit, vibrant red juice coloring his lips.
“Would you do this?”he asked thickly.“For a blue blood?”
Lena glanced up from beneath her lashes.Then licked the spilled juice from her fingers.“They’d consider me fast.That’s a dangerous reputation for a debutante.”
His lashes lowered, shuttering those beautiful eyes.“So this is a game you’re playin’?With me?”
“It’s all games,” she replied, giving a little shrug.Watching the color of his eyes change, she lifted another cherry toward his lips.“I’m not putting you to sleep, am I?”
Will caught her wrist.“No.”
Taking the cherry from her trapped hand, she bit into it.“Good.”Leaning closer, she gestured to her throat, trailing her fingers lightly across the skin there.“There are certain points on a woman’s body that she reveals if she’s shopping for a patron.Covering them means she’s not interested.
“The throat, for example.”Arching her neck, she presented the smooth skin to him with languid grace.“No debutante wears a necklace or choker unless she’s in the process of signing a contract.”
Will’s pupils flared, his gaze dropping over her throat and lower, to her collarbone and the upthrust of her breasts.The gown was daring, even for her.The type of thing she’d only wear for him.
“Where else?”The words were soft, but they buffeted her skin, raised a shiver.
His eyes were a dare.
Leaning closer, she presented the interior of her wrist to him.The soft creamy skin, veins pulsing blue beneath it.“Here.”Their eyes met.“Do you remember how you greet a woman?”
He took her hand by reflex, but she kept her wrist presented up, toward him.Will stilled, uncertainty tightening the hard planes of his face.
“You press your lips to the back of her hand,” she whispered, lifting her wrist toward him.“For a woman to signify her interest, she presents her wrist instead.”
His head lowered, his lips brushing against the delicate inner skin of her wrist.A cool caress.Barely a ghost of sensation.The prickle of his stubble rasped through her, her nipples pressing hard against the stiff black lace of her corset.Lena pressed her tongue against her teeth to stifle a gasp.
“If a blue blood is interested, he lingers,” she murmured.“Perhaps a trace of his tongue.”
Will lowered his head again, his eyes watching her.Lena’s lips parted as his mouth covered her wrist, suckling the soft flesh.The wet rasp of his tongue seemed to touch her deep inside and she pressed her thighs together, feeling it there, feeling the chafe of her drawers.
“That,” she whispered, “is rather provocative for a blue blood.”
