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“Very well.” He gave her a courtly bow and returned to the basket of food and squinted. “Shall we have whatever this is or artichokes first? Or perhaps more wine. Everything tastes better with wine.”
“You cannot leave me here, locked to the bedpost.”
He spread his arms. “You asked me not to touch you. I do not see any other way of freeing you. In the morning I will search the wardrobe again. The key must be in there.” If not, in the light, he could better search the house.
She closed her eyes and blew out a breath, as though exhausted from arguing with a small, recalcitrant child. “Very well.”
“Very well you would like more wine?” Laurent poured more in his glass and then looked for hers. Once he remembered she had smashed it, he found another and poured her a measure. He imagined she would need it, though he would watch where she put the glass carefully, lest she fling it in his direction again.
“I would like to be free.”
“Then I must touch you.”
She nodded.
“I prefer you say the words. I’d rather you didn’t accuse me of attacking you later.”
“I am agreeing to your plan,” she said through clenched teeth.
“And I may touch you?” Oh, how quickly his rakish ways returned to him. But how could he resist teasing her a little when she was so lovely with all that high color in her cheeks?
“Yes.” Those eyes might have burned through him.
“Yes...” He smiled at her and the look she gave him made him glad he had not yet given her the glass.
“You may touch me.”
“Excellent.” He set the glasses on the nightstand and approached her cautiously. This time when he reached for her, she didn’t flinch away. He placed his hands on her waist—a rather small waist—and slid them slightly lower so he might lift her more easily.
She didn’t look at him, but her breathing grew more rapid. He did not dare look into her face either. He did not want her to see what he was certain was bare lust in his eyes. When his hands had slid to her hips, when the sweet swell of them had filled his hands, he’d wanted nothing more than to pull her close. She was warm and he craved the warmth of a woman pressed against him. He wanted this woman’s sweet scent in his nostrils and the taste of her on his tongue. How he wanted to find out if her skin was as soft as it looked.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
In one swift motion, he lifted her. Her skirts slid under his hands, and he was forced to move his grip lower, almost to her derriere. He did not mind, but she let out a small sound of protest. And then he heard the sound of metal on wood. “I am free. Let me down.”
He lowered her, holding her lightly until her feet were on the ground. With a smile that all but dazzled him, she held up the empty fetter dangling from her wrist. “You may release me now,” she said.
“I could,” he agreed. That smile made his head spin with desire. “But I don’t think I will.”
