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He paused and plucked a rose. “These are beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Mr. Siddons,” she said with an exaggerated sigh, “I fear there is something you do not know about me.”
James felt his body tense, waiting for whatever admission was forthcoming.
“I have three younger siblings.”
He blinked. What the hell did that have to do with anything?
“Hence,” she continued, smiling at him in such a way that he was no longer quite so sure that she was up to anything other than amusing conversation, “I am quite proficient in recognizing when a person is evading a question. In fact, my younger siblings would call me frighteningly proficient.”
“I’m sure they would,” he muttered.
“However,” she continued personably, “you are not one of my siblings, and you are certainly under no obligation to share your past with me. We all have a right to our private feelings.”
“Er, yes,” he said, wondering if maybe she was nothing more than what she seemed—a nice young country-bred miss.
She smiled up at him again. “Have you any siblings, Mr. Siddons?”
“I? No. None. Why?”
“As I said, I am endlessly curious. A person’s family can reveal a great deal about his character.”
“And what does your family reveal about your character, Miss Hotchkiss?”
“That I am loyal, I suppose. And that I would do anything for my brother and sisters.”
Including blackmail? He leaned toward her, barely an inch, but it was still enough to make her lower lip tremble. James took a primitive satisfaction in that.
She just stared at him, obviously too inexperienced to know how to handle such a predatory male. Her eyes were huge, and the clearest, darkest blue James had ever seen.
His heart began to beat faster.
“Mr. Siddons?”
His skin turned hot.
“Mr. Siddons?”
He was going to have to kiss her. That’s all there was to it. It was the stupidest, most ill-advised idea he’d had in years, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop himself. He moved in, closing the gap between them, savoring the anticipation of the moment his lips would land on hers, and—
“Eep!”
What the hell?
She made some sort of nervous chirping sound and jerked away, her arms flailing.
And then she slipped—in what, he didn’t know, since the ground was dry as bone, but she waved her arms madly to keep from falling to the ground, and in the process smacked him under the chin. Hard.
“Ow!” he howled.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” she said quickly. “Here, let me see to that.”
She stepped on his toe.
“Ouch!”
“I’m sorry sorry sorry.” She looked terribly concerned, and normally he would have milked this for all it was worth, but damn it, his foot really hurt.
