Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(29)

“Nowhere.”

“Well, you were nowhere for some time.”

Sev shrugged. “Took a stroll. It clears my head.”

“What do you need to clear your head about? The world lies sprawled before you, yours for the taking. You’ve won the war and you have the plumpest of heiresses baited on hooks for your choosing. Life, cousin, for you at any rate, is good.”

Indeed, he should agree with that sentiment. For the first time in years, his country was at peace. He was alive and his kingdom was on the mend. He should be able to put the years of war and pain and loss and uncertainty behind him. He should.

Malcolm stared at him, still waiting for a response.

“I only needed a bit of air,” he replied, once again vague.

“Ah.” Malcolm smiled as if suddenly understanding. “Would that air happen to be in the company of a certain Lady Libbie?”

Sev grimaced. The lovely Lady Libbie had not even been in the vicinity of his thoughts, which was unfortunate because she was on the top of his list of prospective brides and the reason he found himself here at all. He’d already received her father’s hearty approval for the match.

His cousin mistook his grimace for guilt, it seemed. “Ah, I see.”

Malcolm winked in an exaggerated manner and Sev was quite certain he did not see anything at all. With a covert look for the other gentlemen in the room, he leaned in close. “Well, she is a fetching bit of skirt, I’ll give you that. Couldn’t blame you for stealing away with her for a spell. And her papa did encourage you to better acquaint yourselves, did he not?” A snort of laughter followed this.

Sev slammed down his drink. “I wasn’t with her.” Too late he realized he overly emphasized her.

“Oh.” Malcolm’s eyebrows winged high. “Not her, eh? Who then?”

Sev merely grunted and flung back another drink. He wasn’t about to confess he’d been occupied with the elder Miss Hadley and have Malcolm think there was something afoot between the two of them. Because that most assuredly was not the case.

Certainly she had kissed him with all the fire and skill of a seasoned courtesan, but that meant nothing. His cheek still stung from the memory of what Grier Hadley thought of their kiss . . . thought of him. He was not the sort to chase any woman. If she was not interested in a dalliance, then so be it. He wasn’t interested in her.

What desire could he feel for a female who insulted him and the country he’d spent half his life fighting for? She was not the sort of female he liked at all. Too impertinent. Too tall—sun-browned and freckled as any field hand.

Suddenly her bright eyes, seductive and heavy-lidded as they had been in that shadowy music room, filled his memory, and his throat went dry. Naturally he’d responded to her. She was a warm, willing female, and he was merely a hot-blooded man. Certainly there was nothing he found appealing about the female. Nothing at all.

Still, the image of Miss Hadley swam through his mind and the taste of her burned on his lips.

He set his unfinished drink down. Malcolm blinked up at him. “I believe I’ll retire for the night. I should like to rise early for a morning ride.”

“In this weather?”

Sev snorted, recalling spending many nights in tents with arctic winds raging outside and distant cannon fire lulling him to sleep. “An English winter is no match for Maldania in winter. You should remember that.”

Malcolm’s eyes clouded over. “Perhaps. I was just a boy when we were banished.”

Sev nodded and squeezed his cousin’s shoulder, regretting reminding Malcolm of the sore subject. “You know you are free to return home. Grandfather does not blame you for your father’s transgressions.”

“It fails to signify. Mother shall never set foot on Maldanian soil again, and I cannot leave her here. It’s all water under the bridge at any rate. I’m an Englishman now. Thank God they love titles. I may be destitute, but I have no dearth of invitations to the finest homes and parties. I’ll not starve.”

Sev clapped his cousin on the back. “There is that.”

“Maybe I’ll wed an heiress myself. Mother says it’s about time.” Malcolm scanned the room with a judicious eye, his gaze stopping on Jack Hadley. “One of the Hadley chits could be ideal. That fiery one with the freckles who tossed her drink on you.” He chuckled. “Bet she’d be a fine ride between the sheets. No boring romp there.”

Sev’s hands fisted at his sides. “Leave her be,” he commanded.

Malcolm looked sharply at him. “What? She might be unsuitable for you, but not me. She’d probably be grateful for my regard. She hasn’t had an easy time of it.”

“She’s mine.” He didn’t anticipate the words. Did not know he felt so possessive toward her until he uttered them.

Yet staring at his cousin’s shocked face, he found he did not regret them.

“Yours?”

Now was the time to take back his words. To explain he meant something else. “You heard me.” The notion of Malcolm—or any man—laying a finger on her filled him with a deadly rage.

He did not regret the words and yet he should not have said them. Should not feel them.

With a tight nod, he bade good night and left the room, before he said anything else he could not retract.