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What a fascinating, if not bizarre, tale. Like the plot of one of the books she so adored. Theo would never have guessed Haven to be so complicated beneath the threadbare coats and well-worn boots.
Drat.
Theo didn’t want him to be interesting. Or fascinating. Or so beautiful in the afternoon light.
His fingers trailed over her wrist before wrapping around it. “Do you wish to know more?” Haven’s thumb rubbed over Theo’s pulse, already beating like a drum. Absently, his fingers caressed her wrist, pausing only briefly in his ministrations at a tiny speckle of paint on her skin.
“No, I think that is quite enough. I’m still considering fleeing England, possibly to Italy. I might yet be able to ruin my sister’s wedding trip with the Frost Giant.”
A small, amused sound left him. “Someone has been reading their Norse mythology. I’ve always thought if I could convince Granby to put on an eye patch, he’d make a decent Odin.”
Theo decided not to tell him it was actually Phaedra who was up on her mythology. Theo’s own interest in the subject was limited to the scenes depicted in paintings.
“Missed a spot.” Haven’s thumb paused to caress the small bit of paint on her wrist.
His words weren’t especially erotic, yet they echoed down between her thighs.
Carefully, he pulled her wrist to his lips, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the wild pulse beating there. “Probably couldn’t see it,” he murmured against her skin. “I shall have to remember to inspect you for paint.”
Theo sucked in a breath, alarmed at how quickly the mood between them had shifted. One moment they were discussing his drunk uncle and unwanted social engagements and the next, his lips were trailing in a bold manner along her wrist.
“That isn’t necessary.” A tremor ran through her at the light touch. “To inspect me.” A flood of sensation rippled over her, bringing to mind thoughts of bare skin and soft whispers. Of Haven pressing all his muscled warmth against her.
She tugged at her wrist, anxious to break contact. Destroy the sudden, unwelcome intimacy springing up between them.
Haven didn’t release her. His eyes closed for a moment before the press of his tongue slid against her pulse, tasting her skin. It was an unexpectedly sensual gesture, one that felt even more wicked here, in the dappled sunlight of her brother’s garden.
“Where is my miniature?” she whispered, determined to stop the slow spread of honey spilling down her wrist to encompass the rest of her body. Another image of what she’d seen at Elysium flashed through her mind.
“I’m keeping it.” His teeth scraped against her skin. “I’d like to make some comparisons before giving it back to you. Size. Shape. Color.”
Heat rushed up her cheeks. There was no way to mistake his meaning.
“I can inspect you for paint at the same time. There isn’t any telling where some has landed. Possibly even under your skirts.” He watched her from beneath his lashes, bits of emerald flashing across her skin.
Theo’s heart fluttered. Not softly, but madly. Like the wings of a trapped butterfly. She had to turn away from the hunger flaring in his gaze. Haven meant to devour her as he had the tea tray. And she was much larger than a scone or a biscuit.
It is only envy of Blythe, she reminded herself, causing him to behave so seductively with her.
“There is no need to pretend affection, my lord.” She snatched her wrist from his grasp. “Nor seduction. We are to be married whether we wish it or not.”
“I deplore pretense, Theodosia. I don’t have the patience for it and thus do not practice it.” Haven’s lips twisted into a smirk which made him more damnably attractive than he already was.
Drat.
“Good.” She cleared her throat, trying to regain some control. “We should reach some sort of understanding, given our circumstances,” she blurted, finding it increasingly difficult to breathe with Haven so close.
“Should we?”
Theo cleared her throat. “Politely, my lord, our marriage is one of convenience. An unhappy accident borne of society’s rules. You and I both know nothing improper happened between us.”
“DoI know that, though?” His voice had lowered to a dangerous purr. “You attacked me. My ribs are still bruised.”
Theo pursed her lips, ignoring the subtle ache the sound of him stirred. “I only sought to retrieve the miniature, as well you know.”
“You’ve yet to thank me for saving your reputation.” Those tiny lights, the ones that reminded Theo of fireflies in the summer grass, were dancing in his eyes.
“My reputation wouldn’t have been damaged had you only returned the miniature to me. I would have left the study immediately. You arrogant wretch; how dare you behave as if you’ve done me a favor. All of London thinks I was lying in wait for Blythe.”
