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He held it out to her. “Smoke?”
Pippa almost fainted. “No.”
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
The familiar phrase sent her heart to pound in its fiercest beat since he’d revealed himself.
After a half-hearted attempt to convince herself it was too improper, she reached for the cheroot. It felt so delightfully wicked to indulge in something so simple. Pippa belatedly realized she should have been finding out things with which she could ruin the duke, or blackmail him into doing right by Miranda, but she was enjoying the freedom of not being so proper and perfect as dictated by society.
She inhaled quickly and regretted it immediately. The smoke burned her throat, and she dissolved into a fit of coughing which transformed into choked laughter.
“Your first time?” he asked with devilry dancing in his eyes.
Of course, he knew! “Yes, and while it is excessively diverting, I do not believe I shall try it again,” she uttered, furiously aware of flaming cheeks.
They played for several minutes, before he said, “What kind of burglar are you? I saw no interest in the candlesticks or monies I had in my drawer."
Her fingers paused on the bishop. There was a short silence, broken only by her ragged breathing. “What kind of man has a dual reputation?”
He stiffened perceptibly. "Do tell."
She shivered at the dark throb of warning in his tone. “You are the Duke of Saints are you not? That is what many in society call you. I am sure you are aware of your moniker. Yet you have a book…that is decidedly not saintly.”
Dear God, she needed to find a way to control these urges to blush. Her entire body felt too warm recollecting the wicked, wicked images. The awareness of how alone they were seeped into the air.
He reached for his glass and tipped it to his lips. “A most extraordinary thief. Your intimate knowledge of me says you are familiar with the ton.”
She lifted a shoulder in a deliberately casual shrug. “I read the scandal sheets with the best of them.”
“Even more curious. An educated thief. My interest is snared.”
Drat! To avoid responding she swallowed the remainder of her drink, distantly realizing this was her second glass, and she felt…tingly and hot, and there were butterflies in her belly.
This is dangerous. The knowledge slammed into her with the power of a careening carriage. She swayed before catching herself. Pippa lifted her gaze from the board, and the predatory gleam in his eyes had her faltering into stillness. Waves of shock and tension poured through her. “You know I’m a girl,” she said huskily. “That is why you’ve not called for help!”
Chapter 6
The duke’s sensual lips curved in a small smile. He reached out and touched her chin with a finger. That slight touch felt like a carnal assault on her senses. Pippa felt his touch through the handkerchief—an unmistakable possessive caress she did not understand. She regarded him speechlessly. Something impossibly heated slid through her veins.
His bright silver eyes burned with desire, and her body trembled in reaction to the knowledge. He plans to ravish me. A strange stirring began in the pit of her stomach and drifted lower. She felt as if she were falling…endlessly into a moment she did not understand but wanted. Pippa had never felt like this in all her years, and she slid an accusing stare at the empty glass still clutched in her hand. It must be the wh
isky.
Pippa did not like the way his stare riveted on her. His intention pulsed in the air around them. She leaned away from the intimate caress, and he lowered his hand. She tugged the cap lower, hiding her face. “I cannot stay,” she whispered, settling the glass on the carpet. This had to be handled with care lest she trapped herself in a situation wholly unfamiliar to her. Games of seduction and temptation were not known to Pippa.
A decidedly imperious brow rose. “Our game is not over.”
“I can tell that you want to kiss me!” she burst out. So much for handling the matter with delicacy. It was impossible to pretend ignorance and now was not the time to be naïve. She felt frightened…and also tempted. Many nights she had wondered about the stranger who had offered his brand of comfort and had pulled a smile from her when her heart had been numb with pain.
“I want to…desperately.”
Her mouth dried. I want to kiss you too. She shook her head, fighting the awakening realization. Pippa feared she was on the verge of doing something truly stupid. She searched for a clever and witty response but could not find her tongue. She cautiously lifted her head and peered upward at his impenetrable mien. “Your Grace—”
“You broke into my house, we are drinking and smoking together. I daresay you may call me Christopher.”
She took a shuddering breath. “You may call me…Miss Beaver.”
He chuckled, the sound low, deep, and frightfully appealing. She inched away from him.
