Page 227 of A Vicious Love

“It sounds as though they need me there.”

“No, they need supervision far away from you.”

His mouth twitched. “Worried I’ll corrupt the hunt?”

“You brought people-guns.”

“I brought regular guns. Your family brought long guns and tweed. Argue with them.”

“They are hunting.”

“So am I.”

“People,” I said, flatly.

His smile came back, faint and sinful. “You do listen.”

I grabbed a pillow and hugged it to my chest. “You’re impossible.”

“You keep saying that. I’ve decided it means handsome.”

“It does not.”

Jamison looked devastating in the morning light, dressed in black. His hair had fallen forward over his forehead. His eyes kept finding me in the bed as if leaving the room had become more difficult than getting dressed for danger.

“You haven’t said why you’re going,” I said.

“I told you. Hunt.”

“No. You’re going because of something else.”

His hands stilled over his cufflink.

I noticed.

He noticed me noticing. For a moment, we looked at each other across the room.

“I need to speak with your father,” he said.

My stomach tightened. “About Harlan business? Is that why you are here?”

He crossed toward the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge near my knees.

“I came for you.”

My fingers tightened on the pillow. Jamison watched the movement and looked far too pleased with it.

“I have business with your father,” he said. “That is true. I would still rather be in bed with you than walking through a damp forest listening to Bellemere men discuss birds.”

I looked down because my face could no longer be trusted.

His amusement faded a little.

Yesterday he had arrived and turned my entire sense of him sideways. Kindness from Jamison felt like stepping onto a frozen lake and hearing the surface hold.

“You’re being nice,” I said, quieter. “And you keep making promises.”

“I keep meaning them.” He stared at me, then seemed to realize he had said something almost too honest and handled it by becoming smug again.