Page 82 of The Trouble with Tigers
She nodded in growing impatience and dragged herself to a proper sitting position.
He shrugged. “It suited me to do so.”
His words cut her to the core. But what had she expected? A declaration of love?
Her cheeks burned and the backs of her eyes stung. Oh, no. She would not humiliate herself by crying in front of him. She hinged forward and searched at her feet for her slippers.
“You horrible man,” she bit out as she jammed her feet into the slips of satin and sprang from the sofa. She launched herself toward the library door, still choking on outrage. “You perfectly odious—”
“Kitty,” Zeke said, his voice the only warning she had that he’d closed in on her before his large hand grasped her elbow, halting her mid-stride.
“Let go of me,” she said through her teeth.
“Kitty. Look at me.”
She glared at him over her shoulder.
“That came out badly. You misunderstood what I meant. I only—”
“I understood perfectly. Now understand this. I never want you to do that”—she waggled her fingers toward the vacated sofa—“ever, again. Do you hear me?”
A boyish grin spread over his damnably handsome face. “I hear you, but I’m afraid I can’t promise to comply. I liked it way too much. As did you.”
She swiveled to faced him. She drew her hand back, prepared to slap the smile off his lips.
Zeke caught her wrist before her palm got anywhere near his face. Adding insult to injury, he laughed. “I can see you’re upset, Kitty. Let’s table this discussion ’til tomorrow.”
She huffed and jerked her arm free. “This discussion is over now.”
She marched past the threshold, then spun to glower at him. “I’ll tell the earl. I’ll…” She frowned realizing the flaw in her plan. The earl wouldn’t want Zeke to stay away from her. He’d force him to marry her.
Zeke rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You know, I think you should tell him.”
She shook her head in frustrated disbelief. Zeke knew very well the earl would demand they wed, probably by special license. He’d entrap himself to outwit her? Just like a man. Evidently none of them had any sense till they reached the age of her late grandfather or the earl.
“This is lunacy,” she said, throwing her arms up.
His eyes narrowed on her face. At least he no longer appeared quite so delighted with himself. “Go to bed, Kitty,” he said softly. “Wewilltalk in the morning.”
***
Zeke stood in the doorway, listening to the receding pitter-pat of Kitty’s footsteps. Amazing how she could screamvexedwith nothing more than the sound of her feet on the stone floor.
He wished he could read his own emotions so easily. Wished he could understand what in hell had come over him, not only tonight, but since he met Kitty.
From the beginning, the infusion of Kitty into his life had heralded inexplicable results. Like tonight, when she glided into the parlor looking like a princess, or sea nymph, or whatever you called someone so damned beautiful she stole your breath.
The minute he laid eyes on her he’d wanted to scoop her into his arms, carry her to the first available bedchamber and devour her. That reaction he could almost understand.
But what of the almost palpable anger that followed? He hadn’t known where to direct it. At Kitty, who’d waltzed in showing more skin than Randall or Caden or any man ought to see, or at his brother and friend for fawning over her? Wasn’t that grand? He’d never been jealous in his life.
He covered the lower half of his face with both hands and prowled the dimly lit room. Anything to alleviate this restless, simmering energy. This feeling of losing himself, who he was. All because of one tenacious, audacious, irresistible wench.
He stopped in front of the oriel window. Leaned his over-heated forehead against the cool glass. No woman should have so much influence over a man. Should make him crave her. Her laughter. Her spirit. Her attention. Her body, for Christ’s sake.
Witness his father. His ever-smiling, quicksilver father, who had lost his will to live, his ability to care for anyone or anything, when Zeke’s mother had the bad grace to die.
He didn’t want to want Kitty like he did, and he refused to confuse want with need. He did not need her. It was that simple.
