To Seduce a Sinner (Legend of the Four Soldiers #2)(9)
Author: Elizabeth Hoyt

She undressed and extinguished the candles before climbing into bed. Holding the covers up, she let Mouse bustle underneath. The bed trembled as he turned around and then lay down, his smooth, warm back against her calves.

Melisande stared into the darkness. Soon she would be sharing her bed with more than little Mouse. Would she be able to lie with Jasper without revealing her terrible love? She shivered at the questild at thtion and closed her eyes to sleep.

ONE WEEK LATER, Jasper drew his matched grays to a halt in front of Mr. Harold Fleming’s town house and sprang down from his phaeton. His new phaeton. It was tall and elegant, had cost an extravagant amount of money, and the wheels were absolutely enormous. He was rather looking forward to driving Miss Fleming to an afternoon musicale. He wasn’t looking forward to the musicale itself, of course, but he supposed one must end up somewhere when driving a phaeton.

Tilting his tricorne at a jaunty angle, he bounded up the steps and knocked. Ten minutes later, he was cooling his heels in a rather boring library while he waited for his fiancée to appear. He’d actually seen this library only four days before when he’d called upon Mr. Fleming to discuss the marriage settlement. That had been an entirely tedious three hours, brightened only by the fact that Miss Fleming had been quite right: She did indeed have an excellent dowry. Miss Fleming herself had not appeared once during his visit. Not that she was required for the business meeting—in fact, it was usual for the lady involved to be absent—but her presence would’ve been a welcome break.

Jasper strolled the library and inspected the shelves. The books seemed to be all in Latin, and he was just wondering if Mr. Fleming actually read everything in Latin or if he’d bought the books by the crate at a booksellers when Miss Fleming entered the room, drawing on her gloves. He hadn’t seen her since that morning in the vestry, but she wore nearly the same expression: a look of mingled determination and faint disapproval. Oddly, he found the expression rather charming.

Jasper bowed with a flourish. “Ah, my dear, you are as winsome as the breeze on a sunny summer’s day. That frock enshrines your beauty like gold does a ruby ring.”

She tilted her head. “I believe your simile is not quite correct. My dress is not gold-colored, and I am not a ruby.”

Jasper widened his smile, showing more teeth. “Ah, but I have no doubt that your virtue will prove you a ruby among women.”

“I see.” Her mouth twitched, whether in irritation or amusement it was hard to tell. “You know, I’ve never understood why there isn’t a similar passage in the Bible instructing husbands.”

He tsked. “Careful. You come perilously close to blasphemy. Besides, are not husbands universally virtuous?”

She humphed. “And how do you explain my dress that is not gold?”

“It may not be gold, but the color is, ah . . .” And here he rather unfortunately ran out of ideas, because, in fact, the frock Miss Fleming wore was the color of horse dung.

Miss Fleming slowly arched an eyebrow.

Jasper clasped her gloved hand and bent over it, inhaling the spicy orange scent of Neroli water as he thought for something to say. All he could think was that the sensuous Neroli scent was in sharp contrast to her plain gown. It did stimulate his brain, however, because when he rose, he smiled charmingly and said, “The color of your frock reminds me of a wild and stormy cliff.”

Miss Fleming’s eyebrow remained arched skeptically. “Indeed?” nodeed?”<

Damnable girl. He tucked her hand in his elbow. “Yes.”

“How so?”

“It is an exotic and mysterious color.”

“I thought it was plain brown.”

“Nay.” He widened his eyes in feigned shock. “Never say ‘plain brown.’ Ash or oak or tea or fawn or perhaps even squirrel-colored, but certainly not brown.”

“Squirrel-colored?” She looked at him sideways as he led her down the steps. “Is that a compliment, my lord?”

“I believe so,” he said. “I have certainly tried my best to make it so. But it might depend on how one feels about squirrels.”

They had halted in front of his phaeton, and she was frowning up at the seat. “Squirrels are rather pretty sometimes.”

“There, you see. Definitely a compliment.”

“Silly man,” she murmured, and gingerly placed a foot on the wooden steps set before the phaeton.

“Allow me.” He grasped her elbow to steady her as she climbed into the carriage, conscious that he could wrap his fingers all the way about her arm—the bones beneath her flesh were delicate and thin. He felt her stiffen as she settled, and it occurred to him that she might be nervous sitting so high. “Hold on to the side. There’s nothing to be worried about, and Lady Eddings’s house isn’t far.”

That earned him a scowl. “I’m not afraid.”

“Of course not,” he called as he rounded the carriage and climbed in. He could feel her body, stiff and still beside him as he took the ribbons and started the horses. One of her hands lay limply in her lap, but the other grasped the carriage’s side tightly. Whatever she might say, his fiancée was indeed wary of the carriage. He felt a twinge of tenderness for her. She was such a prickly thing, she must hate to show weakness.

“I think you are very fond of squirrels,” he said to distract her.

A line knit itself between her brows. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you wear it so often—that squirrel color. I have deduced from your fondness for squirrel-colored gowns that you are fond of the animal itself. Perhaps you had a pet squirrel as a child, and it ran about the house, upsetting the maids and your nanny.”

“What a flight of fancy,” she said. “The color is brown, as you well know, and I don’t know if I’m fond of brown, but I am used to it.”

He snuck a look at her. She was frowning at his hands handling the ribbons. “They wear it so they can’t be seen.”

She tore her gaze from his hands and looked at him rather bemusedly. “You’ve lost me, my lord.”

“The squirrels again, I’m afraid. I am sorry, but if you don’t start another topic, I shall probably babble about them all the way to the musicale. Squirrels are squirrel-colored because squirrel color is harng color d to see in a forest. I wonder if that’s why you wear it as well.”

“So that I might hide in a forest?” Her smile was definite this time.