Twelfth Night with the Earl (The Sutherland Sisters #3)(32)

Ethan didn’t even try to stifle his mirth this time, but threw his head back and laughed. “Is that why you’re cross with me? Because of George and Henry?” It didn’t seem the right time to mention he’d been trying to win Martha over with promises to teach her how to shoot a pistol.

“I’m not cross.” Thea skirted around the side of her work table, careful not to touch him, and went to retrieve a sack of flour by the door. “I can’t imagine why you think I would be, Lord Devon.”

Ethan followed, took the sack of flour from her and brought it to her work table. “Because you keep calling me Lord Devon. I don’t like it. I want you to call me Ethan.”

“Why should I? All the servants call you Lord Devon.”

“Ah, but I don’t think of you as a servant, Miss Sheridan.” She was the woman he was madly in love with, and while there may be some circumstances in which he’d like to hear her whisper your lordship in his ear, this wasn’t one of them.

Yet.

“You’re the only one who calls me Ethan anymore, you know.”

Thea had begun to measure out the flour, but she paused at that. “No one? Not even your friends in London?”

“No, not since I became the earl. They all call me Devon now.”

“Well, you are the earl, my lord, and as you’ve made a point of reminding me of that more than once since your return, I think it’s only proper for me to call you Lord Devon.”

He cocked his head, considering her. “Why does it sound as if you’re trying not to laugh every time you call me by my title?”

She gave a dismissive sniff, but a blush stained her cheeks. “How absurd. I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean . . . Lord Devon.”

She couldn’t quite disguise the trace of laughter in her voice as his title slipped off her tongue, and his lips curved in a wry half-smile “Oh, but I think you do. I think you know precisely what I mean, and I’ll have it at once, even if I have to do something wicked to get it out of you.”

Thea looked into his eyes, and whatever she saw there made hers go wide. “No. I won’t tell you. It may offend your lordship’s dignity.”

He crooked a finger at her. “Come now. I insist on having the reason, Miss Sheridan, and in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a terribly important earl now, and like most earls, I must have my way in all things.”

Her lips twitched with suppressed mirth. “But I’m afraid you won’t like it, my lord. It’s quite shocking.”

“Shocking? That sounds promising.” His gaze dropped to that tiny smile curving her mouth, and his voice lowered to a rasp. “Do you truly think you can shock me, Miss Sheridan? Why don’t we see? Tell me your secret, and I’ll tell you if I’m shocked.”

Thea’s flush deepened, but now she was biting her lip to hide her grin. “You were an incorrigible tease as a boy, too, but very well, since you insist. It, ah . . . well, it involves wet nightclothes, you see, and . . . and bare skin.”

Bare skin? Dear God, he hoped she was referring to her bare skin. “I’m not sure what this has to do with my title, but I no longer care.” He grinned down at her. “Tell me more about the wet nightclothes and the bare skin.”

“Well, it’s just this. I can’t call you Lord Devon with a straight face, because I’ve . . . well, I’ve . . .” She drew a deep breath, and her next words came out in a rush. “I’ve seen your bare bottom.”

Ethan was stunned silent for a moment, but then he let out a roar of laughter. “My bare bottom? Don’t say you’ve been peeking at me while I’m in my dressing closet.”

She planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “Certainly not. What a wicked thing to say. No, it was years ago I saw it, and it hardly counts, because I daresay your bottom has changed quite a bit since then . . .” She trailed off, her face as red as a peony.

He laughed and slid a finger down her cheek to feel the heat of her blush. “I daresay it has. Everything in that region has changed rather dramatically, thank God. But there’s more to this story, I think? Do you have any other observations to make about my bare bottom? Please do feel at liberty to comment on any of my other body parts that interest you, as well.”

She was twisting her apron between her fingers, but despite her obvious embarrassment, she bravely met his gaze. “Do you remember we used to sneak out at night for forbidden swims in your father’s fishing pond? I must have been about twelve when I began to notice . . . well, when your nightclothes got wet they became transparent, and perhaps I occasionally saw something I oughtn’t. And now . . . well, it’s rather difficult to think of you as a high-and-mighty peer of the realm when I’ve seen your bits and pieces.”

“My bits and pieces?” God, he wanted to kiss her, take that bottom lip she’d trapped between her teeth and bite it himself, then suck it into his mouth and tease it with his tongue. “I’m not sure you’re paying my, ah, parts the deference they deserve with that description.”

His parts seemed to agree, because they’d begun to rise in . . . protest?

Her brow furrowed. “Well, I don’t suppose it’s any better to refer to your bare bottom, is it? One shouldn’t discuss an earl’s bare bottom with him, even if one has seen it.”