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He stared at her, not liking the suspicion that pierced his chest. “What do you hide from me?”
She sniffed. “A letter.”
That surprised him, for he had expected some fumbling denial.
“Do you mean to hide it from me?”
“Yes.”
Simon arched a brow. “Why?”
Her mouth twitched. “It is mine, and I do not have to reveal its content.”
“You are undoubtedly correct. However, how you acted suggests the content must be kept from me. Am I being deceived?”
“No.”
“You could have simply folded your letter and put it away.”
She rolled her eyes, calmly folded the letter, and put it in her pocket. “There.”
He chuckled. There was something endearing and quite unpredictable about her. “Who is the letter from, a lover?” Simon did not know what drove him to ask that particular question.
“What a stimulating thought…”
“You digress.”
Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corner. “Should I confess it so easily? Should you not tease the information from me, my good sir?”
“Tease you?”
She smiled prettily. “That is what I said.”
He took a step toward her, his heart jumping when Fanny herself took a step closer. “And just how would I do that?”
Simon was truly curious as to what the minx would suggest.
She ran her hand over her stylish, muslin day dress smoothing non-existing wrinkles. He admired the way in which the sun glinted on her hair, the sensuality of her smile. Fanny looked suddenly, quite dazzlingly lovely.
“Perhaps with kisses,” she murmured. “Wouldn’t that be interesting?”
He fixed her with a quelling look, but she only grinned cheekily.
“Woman—” he began only to break off as she lifted a hand to his face and glided a finger over his jawline. The gesture was welcoming, soothing.
“Yes, Simon?”
“We agreed—” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded half-strangled.
“We?”
Bloody hell.
Her eyes lit up with obvious fascination. “You could step away, Simon.”
Yes, he could.
Her finger touched his upper lip. “Why don’t you?”
