Wicked in Your Arms (Forgotten Princesses #1)(40)

Even in the thin light of the moon, he could see the blush staining her cheeks. “Don’t say that,” she snapped.

“What? It’s true. Anyone could crave a bit of fresh air and see you—”

“Not that! Don’t call me sweetheart,” she clarified.

“Ah.” He smiled now, forgetting his anger in his enjoyment of seeing her so discomfited. “Well. We’re hardly strangers anymore. We’ve shared intimacies—”

“Intimacies? You make it sound as though we’re . . . as though we’ve . . .” She stopped and shook her head doggedly. “I think not.”

“What would you call kissing on multiple occasions? And in no way would I describe those kisses as chaste.” His gaze raked her knowingly, recalling the way she felt against him . . . the way she tasted.

“I would call it a mistake. A brief lapse in judgment. Allow me to disabuse you of the notion that we’ve been intimate in any manner.”

His anger returned in a hot surge. “Deny it all you wish. It doesn’t change what we did. Or that you want me.”

“I want you?” She propped a hand on her waist.

“Yes,” he growled.

She tossed back her head and released a harsh crack of laughter. “Oh, you arrogant pig. You’re delusional.”

“I speak only the truth. It’s in your eyes . . . the way they follow me about whatever room we occupy.” The color rode high in her cheeks and he knew he hit a nerve. “Yes, I’m aware of your stares.”

“Then you must be staring, too,” she accused, jabbing him sharply in the chest with one finger.

He ignored her and the jab of her finger, concentrating on proving that she wanted him. “How can I not stare? I do believe it was you who first kissed me. In a most passionate display, I must say.”

Her eyes spit fire at him. She was shaking now, trembling from head to foot, and he didn’t doubt she wished to strike him. “What about you, Your Royal Highness? When we were locked in that armoire, your actions were far from noble. Are you suggesting that you’re merely the helpless victim of my unwanted attentions? Because that’s indeed laughable.”

He stepped close, his arm stealing around her and pulling her flush against him when she backed up dangerously near the railing. “Oh, I want you. I burn for you.”

Had he actually just confessed such a thing to her? He hardly recognized the sound of his voice, or the stark need ripping through him, urging him to take her, possess her.

She gasped at this declaration, and he fixated on those rosy pink lips. She looked up at him dazedly, sagging against him.

His hand tightened around the curve of her waist, delighting in the delicious give of her flesh beneath the pressure. “The only thing stopping me from having you is my restraint.”

The slightly mesmerized expression vanished from her face. She was indignant again, her eyes snapping with temper, blinking dusty snowflakes free. “The only thing stopping you is me! Unhand me. How dare you touch me! You—you disgust me!”

Her insult flew like the slash of a whip and he wondered at her harshness. He felt the sting of her words as keenly as any tear to the flesh—a fact that only infuriated him. When had he come to care what she thought of him? Whether she thought ill of him shouldn’t signify.

He shook his head, refusing to believe her. Earlier this evening she’d almost seemed to welcome his attentions. He pulled her tighter against him. “Indeed? If you suddenly so loathe my company, why are you here now?”

She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, the pose reminiscent of a soldier preparing for battle. “Because I have something to say to you.”

“You’ve said quite a bit already, Miss Hadley. I can’t imagine you’ve left anything out.”

“What I need to say will only take a moment.”

He looked left and right, assessing the empty balconies. “A moment best not spent here then. Not if you care for your reputation as you claim. We’ve tarried out here long enough. Come inside.”

Her eyes flared wide at the suggestion. She arched back, pushing at his chest with the base of her palms. “I’m not entering your chamber with you.” Her voice burned in a low, fevered rush. “If you would simply allow me to speak my piece and release me, I’ll be on my way.”

“You may be willing to risk your reputation, but I am not.” He hauled her resisting figure into his room. She wrenched free and whirled around, moving backward away from him, the hair trickling free of her loose plait with every step she took.

He closed the door with a solid click. Wearing a lazy smile, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the chilled glass to observe the fetching sight she made.

“Now. Tell me. What makes you risk life, limb, and reputation to speak with me?”

She counted off on one finger. “Firstly, I hardly risked my life. I know you deem me quite old and frail, but I could hurdle those balconies in my sleep.”

“I never said you were old and frail,” he interrupted, surveying her again in her deliciously snug trousers. “Quite the contrary.”

She tossed her unraveling plait of hair over her shoulder and glared at him. “I know of your plans, and I just wanted you to know that I think you’re despicable. Lady Libbie is very unfortunate indeed to fancy herself in love with you.”