The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(14)

“Hold still,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

It wasn’t difficult for Sara to oblige. After all, he was yet again only inches away from her. Whenever he was near, she felt positively paralyzed with a nervous sensation in her stomach.

“I’m going to lean in,” he warned without looking at her. His words were hot on her ear. “When I say now, I want you to slap me.”

That was not what she was expecting. “My lord?” she whispered. Why on earth was she to slap him? Was this some sort of sick game?

“Trust me,” he said again into her ear. And for some odd reason she did. “Now,” he instructed.

Without a second thought, she sent her hand flying across Lord Renwick’s cheek. He wasn’t braced for impact like she had expected, and he nearly lost his balance; he grabbed her arm to steady himself then swore. “Blast! Sai! I didn’t mean for you to kill me!” His face bore the blazing imprint of her hand.

Sara smiled behind her hands as they covered her mouth. It felt good to slap him, and he really did deserve it. She looked around and was shocked to find every single person in the park staring at her. How did they know what was even happening? Before she knew it, Lord Renwick was guiding her back into the carriage, still holding his crimson cheek.

He was glaring at her as the door closed. “I said slap, not imprint your hand onto my face,” he snapped.

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, I’m sorry, my lord. I must not have heard you correctly. You did instruct me to slap you, did you not?” She masked her sarcasm with the most innocent face she could muster as his eyes darted between her mouth and her eyes.

“No, you—” He didn’t finish. Instead he huffed like a little boy who was just informed he wouldn’t be allowed to stay up past his bedtime.

“I what?” she prompted, leaning forward.

He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “You slap hard for a chit.”

“Strong words from a man who merely a few years ago bedded half the ton, don’t you think?”

The look in his eyes should have made her squirm. They nearly went black with rage, then suddenly taking on a gentler illusion, he turned away and ground out, “I’m sorry I called you a chit.” The words were sharp-edged, but it was the best apology she would receive.

“And I’m sorry I hurt you,” Sara conceded, leaning against the window frame.

His head shook as if to contradict her, but he said nothing. Instead he rubbed the still red spot on his face. “Where did you learn to hit like that?”

Laughing quietly she announced, “I slap trees.” She was flirting. Odd, because she wasn’t aware she knew how, but that was exactly what was taking place. She should be more careful. The man sitting across from her reeked of danger, yet she couldn’t help but tease him. It’s not that it would do any harm. After all, she was ugly and he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her.

His eyes sparked a bit as he took his hand off of his face. “Trees? You slap trees? Whatever for?”

“Well,” she said leaning forward and scandalously pulling off her glove—something she was told by her aunt never to do. “A woman’s hands are very delicate.”

Sara looked up and noticed his eyes were positively smoldering back at her. Must he always be so angry? She was having a bit of fun. Joking would be good for him.

“And?” he asked hoarsely.

“And,” she said lifting an eyebrow in interest, “If a girl slaps trees, it helps toughen the hands up. It also builds strength, so when a certain girl is approached by a certain rake, she has the strength to…”

“Torture him?” Lord Renwick interjected, though the look in his eyes told her he wasn’t talking about the tree anymore.

She leaned back as if stung and quickly put her glove on. Somehow the tables had turned. What started as harmless flirting now felt like extremely dangerous territory. Her own heartbeat slammed in her chest, and as rapidly as it was beating she was sure he could hear it too.

He licked his lips. She couldn’t help but watch as he bit his lower lip in thought. Desperation was not an emotion she was fond of, yet in that moment, she felt desperate for his lips to meet her own.

Lord Renwick cleared his throat, “Interesting…methods.” His voice was back to normal.

“Are we still talking about trees?” she asked innocently.

“What else would we be talking about?” he sneered.

Lord Renwick’s eyes followed her hands like a cat follows a mouse. Was he thinking about her being ungloved? Wasn’t that most improper?



***



It was bad enough Nicholas could still feel the heat from Sai’s slap; she had surprised him, and he hated being surprised. Except for the small fact that she was the one delivering said surprise, and although his cheek stung like a mad hornet’s nest, he couldn’t help but admire her small hands and her spunk.

When she took off her glove he nearly passed out, and he wasn’t one to go weak in the knees. Her hands were delicate flowers, but it was a misconception that they couldn’t pack some strength; in fact, he was convinced she was the only woman he knew who could successfully give a man a black eye. The thought made him smile; he would like to see this young woman resort to violence tonight. It would be most amusing. Then again, that would mean she would actually have to touch another man, a thought Nicholas hadn’t come to grips with just yet.