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"Should I be flattered?"
Abruptly his laughter faded, supplanted by a quiet intensity that seemed to permeate the room. "I don't know," he replied, his gaze delving deep into hers. "You tell me." Even as he spoke, he shook his head, supplying the answer to his own question. "No. You shouldn't be. In fact, I'm beginning to think I'm the one who should be flattered. This arrangement of ours grows more appealing by the minute."
Heated silence.
"I think the effects of the ale are wearing off," Aurora noted aloud.
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bsp; Merlin's knuckles grazed her cheek. "Good."
With a shiver of anticipation, Aurora realized she was in over her head. Merlin's presence was too overpowering, the atmosphere about them too intimate. She felt vulnerable in a way she hadn't until now—not even when Jackson was dragging her upstairs. And she hadn't a clue how to extricate herself, not when Merlin's warm fingers were drifting over her face.
"I didn't see you in the tavern prior to your rescuing me," she murmured.
"I was in the rear watching your performance." He traced the bridge of her nose. "It was fascinating."
"I felt like a fool," she confessed. "But I'd do anything to stop this betrothal from happening."
His fingers paused. "Is this prospective husband so untenable, then?"
"No. Quite the contrary. The viscount is a fine man. But he's just not … not…"
"Not exciting? Not challenging? Not the kind of man who would find your actions tonight amusing?"
"Exactly."
"The viscount, you said. Are you, too, of noble birth?"
Aurora hesitated. "Yes, but my family is not the kind to call people out—in fact, they'd do just about anything to keep our name free of public scrutiny. So don't be deterred."
"A family after my own heart." Merlin's palm slid beneath her heavy mane, savoring its silken texture. "And it would take far more than the peerage to deter me." He sifted red-gold strands between his fingers. "Your hair is exquisite. Like a flaming waterfall."
"I … thank you."
Shrewdly he assessed her. "You have no experience at all with men—except, of course, for eluding them—have you?"
"Will you bolt if I say no? Because if so, I'll try to lie. Although I must confess, I'm not very good at it." She awaited his reply, wishing her wits had returned along with her sobriety.
"No, I won't bolt, and no, you needn't lie. I suspected you were an innocent the moment you began your charade. And I assure you, you'll go home as untouched as when you arrived." A hint of a pause. "Well, nearly."
"Is the two hundred pounds acceptable, then?"
"Um-hum." He lowered his head, brushed his lips across each of her cheekbones. "Is this what you had in mind when you referred to a compromising position?" he murmured.
"I think so, yes." Aurora's breath suspended in her throat, and the warm glow of the ale melded into a hotter, more compelling heat. "Are you a sailor?" she whispered.
"Only during those times when I'm en route to my destination."
"Which is where?"
His mouth traced the curve of her jaw, nibbled lightly at her chin. "Many places. The world is vast, filled with opportunities. I simply wait—then seize them."
"You've traveled?" Aurora's eyes drifted shut and she clutched the bedding as the swimming in her head intensified.
"For years." He framed her face between his palms, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips. "Do you think a kiss would be compromising enough?"
"I imagine it would be ideal." Was that the lingering effect of the ale talking?
