Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(37)

“Why do you care one whit how old I am?” she breathed.

“Simply . . . curious.”

She moistened her lips. “Curious to know if you dallied with a woman older than yourself?”

At his slow, deepening smile, she knew she’d made a fatal mistake bringing that up. Instant awareness sparked between them. “Been thinking about that, have you?”

Only every waking moment.

“No,” she denied. “Not at all.”

“I have,” he countered, encroaching even closer. “Every moment of the day.”

He didn’t mean that! Her heart pounded violently against her rib cage.

“Well—well—stop. You shouldn’t!” She looked wildly from him to the drawing room at large. No one seemed aware of them behind the fern. They were shrouded. Lost in their own private world. A very dangerous situation indeed.

He shook his dark head. “I’m afraid I can’t stop. You see, every time I close my eyes, I see these dark eyes.” He gently stroked her cheek. “These freckles.” He brushed a finger over the bridge of her nose—against the brown freckles she’d done her best to ignore for most of her life. His finger drifted down and stroked her bottom lip. “This mouth.”

“Stop,” she repeated, but her voice lacked conviction. It was little more than a puff of breath, released from her trembling mouth.

His dark gaze slid up, locked on her eyes. “Really, Grier. Is that what you want me to do? You want me to stop? Be honest with yourself. I’ve decided to stop lying. Why don’t you? Can you really leave this house party knowing you and I will never see each other again?”

It was the first time he’d uttered her name. And the way he said it . . . she trembled.

He continued, his voice a purr, “Can we part knowing we will never satisfy this . . . thing that we feel between us?”

“Ah, Sev, there you are. And Miss Hadley, didn’t see you there.”

Grier jumped at the sudden arrival of another into their midst. Sev stepped back easily, as if his cousin were not interrupting an intimate moment. Only his eyes showed a flicker of regret.

Her heart racing, face flaming, Grier quickly darted past him, convinced that anyone who took one look at her face would know she was a woman lost. She had to get away. Quickly. She needed to find someplace to regain her breath, to still her racing heart and remind herself just why she loathed the Crown Prince of Maldania and why she should detest his flirtations.

He was merely toying with her, attempting to make another conquest.

He thought her less than himself—a female of no worth. Common. She mustn’t forget that.

No one called out to her as she slipped from the drawing room, further evidence that she was of no importance and would not be missed.

“Your timing leaves a lot to be desired, cousin.”

“Thought you might need rescuing.”

Annoyance flared sharply inside him, a pinch in his chest. With great effort, he tore his gaze from Grier’s fleeing back. The light gilded her auburn hair in certain spots, and his palms tingled, longing to touch the strands, to feel for himself if they felt as silky and warm as they looked.

“And why would you think that?” he asked with a mildness that he did not feel.

“You’re inordinately fascinated with her. I confess it concerns me. You can’t possibly be considering her for a potential bride—”

“Of course not,” he said with far more lightness than he felt. He’d been trained early to school his face into a perfect mask of impassivity. No one should ever know what he was thinking. “I’ve said as much.”

“And yet you wanted me to find out as much information on her as I could.”

He shrugged and admitted, “She’s of minor interest to me.”

“As what? A mistress? Her father will not countenance that. He’ll only take a husband for her. Sorry, cousin. You’ll not be easing yourself between those thighs.”

His hand knotted at his sides. Jaw clenched, he slid his cousin a dangerous look. “Malcolm, your assistance has been useful thus far. If I require advice I shall ask it of you. Tread carefully.”

Malcolm flushed, doubtlessly thinking he did not wish to return to his rented rooms in the stews any sooner than he must. “Of course. Forgive me. Anyone can see she’s struck your fancy.”

He looked sharply at Malcolm. “What do you mean, anyone?”

“Well, not everyone here, I suppose, only the most perceptive. As a prince you’re a point of fascination. You can count yourself fortunate that Lady Libbie appears unaware of the many stares you’re sending Miss Hadley’s way.” His eyes grew cunning. “Nor do I think her father is aware.”

Sev swiped a hand through the air at the reminder of the rich earl’s daughter. He was definitely taking things too far with Grier if he was risking such a promising match. One that would get him home where he belonged. “I’ll press my suit with Lady Libbie.” And forget about a pair of deep brown eyes and bewitching freckles. “No more dragging my feet.” He swept a glance across the room, searching for the golden-headed girl with fresh determination. “Grandfather should be quite satisfied with her.”

“Yes. Yes, he would,” Malcolm agreed.

Feeling the need to ease any tension between them, he offered, “Thank you for advising me in this, Malcolm. I wouldn’t have gotten far without you.”