Page 24 of A Deal with the Devil

Stop taunting him, Kitty.

Instead, she tugged the pocket free from where it was tied around her waist over her stays and opened it. “See? Empty?”

If her voice was a little husky, she absolutely would not admit to it.

“I doubt very much you had my vowel on hand when you ran across the rooftops this morning in order to later hide in your borrowed dress.”

How did he know it was borrowed? How did he notice every little detail? It was infuriating. Then again, this borrowed dress was much finer than anything she had in her own trunks and just a little too long for her. She dropped the hem, once again refusing to consider the silks and satins and embroidered ribbons he was no doubt accustomed to seeing on powdered, pampered ladies. And nary a paper cut from book pages or ink stains from ledger calculations.

He’d already told her this morning that this was not a game she could win.

She straightened, the weight of the day back on her shoulders. Her collarbones ached. She was suddenly exhausted. Playing at being a temptress was ridiculous. Futile.

“Fine,” she admitted. “I stole from you.”

He retreated just slightly, as if she’d surprised him.

“But it’s mine now and I’m not giving it back,” she added.

“Oh, aren’t you?”

She lifted her chin mutinously. “I need it.”

“I need it more.”

“I find that doubtful.”

“Do you, now?” He was still as a blade, shining and sharp.

“Are you being forced to marry Lord Portsmouth?” she snapped.

“No, thank Christ.”

“Well, my sister is.”

“A pity, but I fail to see how that is my problem.” Every word was a dark promise of retribution, a tightened bowstring. A sword leaving the scabbard, ringing with only one purpose: to cut down the enemy.

“I need every weapon at my disposal,” Kitty said. “Including the debt vowel belonging to Lord Worthing.”

“Belonging to me.”

“To me, actually.”

He huffed a brief, incredulous laugh. More of a complicated exhale. She did not imagine he laughed often. “There are men who have lost limbs for less.”

“I am not a man.”

“I’ve noticed.” There was a purr to his voice suddenly, a charm that made every nerve ending below her navel shimmer to life. The scoundrel.

His mouth was near her ear, his breath soft, calling up a trail of goosebumps as though they belonged to him. Heat washed through her when his lips brushed against her.

“You’re trying to seduce me,” she said as flatly as she could, which was a struggle, as all of the blood in her body was suddenly flinging itself about with wild abandon. That his ploy was working was something he did not have to know. Could not know. Ever.

“Believe me, you’ll enjoy it more than my other tactics.”

Of that, she had no doubt. Especially as there was that particularly harrowing story of a duke missing a foot after crossing Devil. He had not been jesting about the missing limbs. Probably.

She liked to think it was a rumor, an exaggeration.