“No,” she said, almost too quickly. Iris’s reaction was immediate and fierce. “Margaret is not suitable. Anyhow, I have been too busy dealing with the house. It still needs my attention, as you well know. But Iwillfind a suitable bride for your nephew. It simply will not be my sister.”
Blaise looked at her suspiciously, noticing the protective glint in her eyes and the slight tightening of her jaw. She was territorial about her family in a way that went beyond simple sisterly affection, and he could respect that. The jealousy he had seen earlier when he complimented her sisters now made more sense.
Before he could press her further, Mrs. Henkings entered the room to oversee the next course. As the housekeeper directed a young housemaid to refill the wine glasses, Iris picked up a napkin and coughed slightly into it. Blaise was about to ask if she was all right when the maid accidentally tipped the decanter.
Deep red wine spilled across the tablecloth and directly onto Blaise’s lap, soaking through his trousers in a cold, spreading stain.
“Oh! Your Grace, I am so terribly sorry!” the maid cried, rushing forward with a napkin and dabbing frantically at his thigh.
Blaise remained perfectly calm, though his eyes narrowed. He caught the faint gleam of satisfaction in Iris’s expression before she schooled it into concern.
Clever. Very clever.
“That is quite enough,” he said evenly, waving the maid away. “Leave us. And ensure we are not disturbed for the remainder of the evening. I require some privacy with the viscountess.”
The maid curtsied hastily and fled. Mrs. Henkings followed with one worried glance at Iris. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the dining room suddenly and dangerously intimate.
“You arranged that to happen,” he stated.
Iris lifted her chin, though her breathing had quickened. “I have no idea what you mean,Your Grace.”
CHAPTER 14
Iris sat back in her chair with quiet satisfaction, watching the dark red stain spread across the table and Blaise’s lap. The wine had landed exactly where she intended. It was a small, petty victory in their ongoing war, but a victory nonetheless. She kept her expression one of perfect innocence, though inside she felt a thrill of triumph.
Let him deal with the consequences of his high-handedness.
The silence stretched between them as Blaise’s dark eyes remained fixed on her; his expression was unreadable at first.
Finally, in that low, commanding voice that always seemed to stroke along her nerves, he said, “This mess will not clean itself, Iris.”
She blinked. “Of course not. I shall call for a servant at once.”
“No,” he said calmly, the single word brooking no argument. “Youwill do it.”
Iris’s heart stuttered. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me, Little Blossom.” Blaise leaned back in his chair. “You arranged this little accident. Therefore, you will clean it.All of it.”
Heat flooded her face. “That is hardly appropriate. I am not a maid.”
His scarred brow lifted, and the ghost of a dangerous smile touched his lips. “Tonight, for me, you will be whatever I require. Now, come here.”
Her defiance warred with the undeniable pull of his command. Part of her wanted to refuse, to storm from the room and reclaim some measure of dignity. But another, far more treacherous part, the part that had dreamed of him every night since his arrival, yearned to obey.
With as much grace as she could muster, Iris rose from her chair and sauntered toward him, hips swaying with deliberate poise. She stopped in front of him, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with spilled wine.
“Good girl.” Her breath hitched. Blaise picked up a fresh linen napkin from the table and held it out to her. “Now, start cleaning.”
Iris took the napkin with slightly trembling fingers. Under the intense weight of his gaze, she began dabbing at the tablecloth, wiping away the spilled wine in slow, careful strokes. She could feel him watching every movement she made. The air in the dining room felt impossibly warm, and she felt her skin heat up.
“Thoroughly, Iris,” he murmured; his voice felt like velvet. “I would hate for the stain to set.”
She bit her lip and continued.
“What did I say about biting your lip?”
She let go of it immediately.
