Page 15 of Lord Ashley's Beautiful Alibi
He bowed. “We shall.”
“Do give him our address,ma petite. Bon soir,my lord.”
Her aunt sailed off and left Gus staring up at him.
“You did that prettily, sir.”
He cocked a long black brow. On his lips was a dashing smile. “I am a diplomat.”
“Your previous career had less to do with diplomacy and more to do with the opposite.”
“That day,” he said as suavely as if he were one of Foreign Secretary Talleyrand’s men, “I regret more than you know.”
She huffed. “Because you failed.”
“Because a friend of mine died, quite brutally.”
She glared at him—and hated herself for her public display of such a raw emotion. “Be careful whom you play with.” She began to turn away.
He caught her wrist. “I saw. I hated the result. I vowed never to involve myself in such heinous acts again. Please don’t go.”
His words were soft and sweet. She narrowed her gaze on him. “Why? You find my conversation appealing?”
“I would like to, yes.”
She wanted to scoff at him, but she was attracting attention from a few. She did not want that. Ever. It was vital to her peace of mind to remain inconspicuous. “If I try to leave, you will haul me against you?”
“Why not? It was quite glorious that morning to hold you in my arms.”
“Intent as you were on…other things?” She realized she had raised her voice. Such was not done in the salon of Josephine.
“I don’t wish to argue with you, Miss Bolton. In fact, I want to apologize.”
She sniffed at him. Out of necessity to keep her emotions in check, she inched toward a corner where no one else was in attendance. No one should overhear the anger she harbored for him—or view the fascination he held for her. “Apologies are now the means of soothing those you have harmed?”
“They always were. I am no longer that man you met in the forest.”
“You no longer haul ladies off their horses or catch mice in sacks?”
“No. I talk like a civilized man with those who produce silk and make good wine. I am here to build friendships and business relationships.”
She liked his mouth. His articulateness. His bass voice that stirred her insides to warm eddies of desire. He was an infatuation that she must deny. “Are you here to kiss people, too?”
“I am.” He grinned. The dash of his charm, the gleam of his white teeth, set her pulse pounding. “And you,mademoiselle, do you still bite people who kiss you?”
“Only those who hold my breast without my permission.”
He arched a brow. “But when I kissed you a second time, you did not bite. One would wonder why.”
“Ah. Simple. You had hold of my arm, and I could not draw my dagger.”
He gave her a side glance. “Do you make a practice of stabbing those who steal a kiss?”
“I make a practice of stabbing anyone who steals what I do not freely give.”
“I will remember that.”
She had to grin at his repartee. “Do you plan to steal from me again?”
