Her breath hitched, but she refused to surrender, refused to give him the words he sought. “You want me to beg?”
Heath stilled, watching, waiting, the corners of his mouth curving into the faintest smile. “Would it kill you?”
Blanche was stubborn enough to put up a fight, even if she deeply wished Heath would go on.Of all the self-centered… maniacal things… he’s going to punish me with this? Make me beg?
“How is it,” he mused, voice a whisper against her skin, “that you are harder to handle than the lords themselves?”
Blanche swallowed, unable to force an answer past her lips.
Heath merely smirked, tracing his thumb along the edge of her jaw with something dangerously close to reverence.
“You’ve spent your life caring for everyone else,” he murmured, his voice lower now, quieter, though no less commanding. “But tonight, someone will take care of you?—”
A beat of silence.
Then, the warmth of his breath met hers once more. “You only have to ask for it, Wildcat.”
Heath lingered—watching, waiting—his breath still fanning against her skin, his presence coiling around her like an unspoken promise.
Blanche exhaled, steadying herself, lifting her chin just slightly. “I do hope you’re patient, Your Grace. I don’t plan on begging you for anything. Ever.”
His smirk deepened, sharp with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
And then—without a word, without hesitation—he pulled away.
Blanche remained where she was, her breath uneven, her pulse thrumming in her ears as the absence of his warmth sent a sharp tremor through her spine.
She had challenged him. Called his bluff.
And he had left her breathless and wanton, spread out like a holiday supper.
Frustration vibrated through her entire body, seeking a release that was close enough to consider wavering in her pride. But her eyes narrowed as she watched him continue to step away from her slowly. A wicked smile spread across his face.
“Not what I had in mind either, Wildcat,” Heath teased. “Would have never guessed that you were one for torture, but I’ll try to oblige.”
“You… You… are impossible,” she said, finally standing and smoothing her skirts.
“Oh, come now, we’re just having fun.”
“That was notfun.Do not expect me to make a game of this and beg at your heels.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, his arm outstretched, gesturing for her to take her leave ahead of him.
And she did.
Thirteen
“Surely, Your Grace, a man in celebration deserves proper company?”
The voice was smooth, laced with practiced seduction, and when Heath glanced up, he was met with the knowing gaze of a woman accustomed to pleasing men of his status.
Percy, lounging comfortably at his side, exhaled in amusement, swirling his drink lazily. “Ah, but his Duchess might take issue with that,” he mused, casting Heath a glance brimming with mischief. “And, regrettably, I suspect my dear friend here has lost his taste forindulgences.”
Heath did not rise to the bait.
Instead, he held the woman’s gaze for a measured beat before offering the faintest incline of his head. “I am not interested.”
The courtesan’s lips curved slightly, as if expecting nothing less. With a fluid movement, she stepped back, leaving them to their drinks and their private musings.
