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The flash of heat tore through her belly, infusing her limbs with warmth and sensitivity. It seemed every part of her was too warm and tooaware. And he—he was touching her everywhere, stoking the fire, making her gasp and moan against her will.
She had to think. She had wanted something from him—not this. Not this!
The necklace. Yes. If only that magic mouth would stop its assault for one second she could focus and—
Suddenly he broke away. Confused, she blinked up at him, saw him gazing down at her, that irritating smile in place once more. “I fear I’ve had an attack of conscience.”
She almost laughed out loud. The Earl of Sedgwick having an attack of conscience? Ha! The man had no conscience. He was playing her—and he was winning!
“As lovely”—he slid his gaze down her body—“and delectable as you are…” His finger trailed a path of heat down her neck and over her collarbone. She willed her body not to react. “I cannot betray Her Grace. I couldn’t live with myself.”
“No, I’m sure you couldn’t.” Where was that necklace? She could not, would not, allow him to leave with it. Sedgwick rose and strode toward the door. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her last hope.
“Good night, my sweet. Until we meet again…”
She rapped the pistol’s handle on the bed’s footboard and he froze in place. Now he was the one turning slowly.
“Give me the necklace, Sedgwick, or I’ll be forced to take it off your cold, dead body.”
He cocked one arrogant eyebrow, seeming not in the least perturbed by the fact she had a pistol trained on him.
“That is a charming toy,” he drawled. “Do you even know how to use it?”
She kept her gaze and her pistol locked on him. “My aim is extremely accurate. Now hand over the necklace.”
Instead of rushing to do her bidding, he leaned against the doorframe, crossed his arms over his broad chest, and seemed to consider her order as though it were a mere request to pass the cream or sugar. Annoying man! Would she have to shoot him to prove she was serious? She did not want to go that far, but she would if necessary.
Wouldn’t she?
She didn’t really know how to fire the pistol. Cressy had told her to point it at anyone giving her trouble, and the mere glimpse of it would frighten even the most stalwart. But it didn’t frighten Sedgwick.
“Hand over the necklace,” he murmured, as though turning the idea around and over in his mind. “To what necklace are you referring, madam?”
She clenched her jaw and seriously considered shooting him somewhere trifling—a knee or a toe. Could she manage it? Had Cressy even primed the thing?
“You know exactly to which necklace I refer,” she ground out, eyeing his shoe with longing.
“No, madam, I am afraid I don’t. Is this a necklace you lost? Why do you assume I possess it?”
She lowered the pistol, aimed it at his foot. Even if she missed his foot, she would hit him somewhere. He was one of the tallest men of her acquaintance. She could not miss. “Stop the games or you won’t be dancing anytime soon. You know as well as I do that I want Cleopatra’s necklace.”
“Cleopatra’s necklace? How would I know anything about such a piece?” But he must have seen something in her eyes as she prepared to take a chance and pull the trigger, and he moved his foot back an inch and held out a hand. “We both know you will not shoot me.”
Her head snapped up at his tone. It had a slight tinge of concern in it. “Why is that?”
“Because I know you. You’re not that kind of…viscountess.”
“You forget my humble beginnings, my lord. I’m full of surprises. After all, you didn’t expect me to walk in here tonight, did you?”
He lifted his brows, seemed to consider. “You have a point.”
“Give me the necklace, Sedgwick. Iwillshoot you.”If I can deduce how to cock this bloody hammer…
With a shrug, he held up both hands in apparent surrender. “Very well. I’ll give you the necklace, though I assure you, I need it far more than you do.”
“Too bad.” Holding the pistol steady with one hand, she moved forward and held out the other. “Move slowly.”
He did as she said, reaching into his tailcoat and withdrawing something. She kept her gaze on his face, his eyes. She was no amateur to allow him to divert her attention. She held out her hand, and he dropped something warm and heavy into it. She curled her fingers around it, moved back, and saw in her peripheral vision that it was indeed the piece she sought.
