Page 32 of The Heiress's Daughter
She gave him a prim look. “Indeed I could not.”
He lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t mind. You’re welcome to do whatever you like with my buttons.”
She stiffened in his arms and, despite the adorable blush that rose to suffuse her perfect complexion, said with a quiet dignity that impressed him, “Please don’t try to flirt with me, Lord Randall.”
“Try to? I’m not succeeding?” he said playfully.
“No. You’re not.”
Race frowned. It was one thing to realize his banter could cause her to close up like a sea anemone, but this serious instruction not to flirt was…disconcerting. He always flirted with women.
“Flirting isn’t meant to be serious, you know. It’s just a bit of fun,” he said. “It’s like battledore and shuttlecock.”
She looked puzzled.
“Flirting is a game,” he explained. “Men and women toss the comments back and forth like a shuttlecock in a fun exchange. It’s not very serious.”
“I’ve never played battledore and shuttlecock, and I am unskilled at flirting, but I understand what you mean. You have not the reputation of being serious at all, Lord Randall.”
Race blinked. “That’s not what I meant. I am serious about important things.”
She gave him a swift glance. “Really?”
“Yes, I—”
“Like keeping a promise to a friend?”
“Yes.” He rarely made promises, and was always very careful about what he promised. He’d never broken a promise in his life.
“Well, you need not keep your promise to Leo—to ‘keep an eye on’ me, was it not?”
“No, I—”
“I heard you talking with your cousin, but I neither need nor wish to have you, or anyone, ‘keep an eye on’ me.”
Not knowing what to say to that, Race twirled her around and then reversed. When she caught her breath, she continued, “So please desist from this well-meant watchdoggery. I will inform Leo of my request when he and my sister return from their honeymoon.”
Race had no intention of discussing this matter here and now. He needed to think. “Why are you talking to my button?”
“Your button?” She looked up at him in surprise.
“The undone one. Still itching to do it up?”
A delicate, delicious flush rose to color her cheeks. “I have no interest in your…button.” She bit her lip and glanced away.
She was not as indifferent to him as she was pretending. Race wanted to purr.
“I’m flirting.” He twirled her around a few more times, then said, “But I will try to be more serious with you.”
She looked up at him. “Try?”
“Well, you can’t expect a man to be serious all the time—how dull would that be?—so you must allow me an occasional little flirt.”
She shrugged. “Who you flirt with is nothing to do with me.”
“It’s everything to do with you.”
She gave him a startled look, then said, “I suppose you’re funning me again.”
