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Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. He followed the trail with his eyes, wishing he could follow it with his tongue. A shiver of anticipation rolled down his spine. “I am a dear friend of Lord Balstead’s.”
His frown deepened and he drew his brows together. “He invited a dear female friend to his house for this party?” What kind of man would do such a thing? Perhaps Lord Balstead was more risqué than he had imagined. Why else would he jeopardize a friend’s reputation?
She shook her head. “No. Well yes. Sort of.”
What the bloody hell? “I think you’d better explain yourself and quickly.”
She nodded tentatively, her gaze casting to where he still held her wrist in his hand. Her pulse jumped under his thumb, beating wildly and erratically as she gently tried to pull her limb from his grasp. “Of course, Your Grace. If you might just release me, I’ll happily explain.”
That made his brow rise. “Release you? Whatever for?” He liked touching her like this. She’d evoked a response he hadn’t experienced in ages. Regardless of what she’d revealed about her relationship with Balstead, he enjoyed the feel of her pulse under his touch and the very fact she’d greeted him alone told him she was no virginal, inexperienced maiden. Which suited him perfectly.
“Because…” she huffed. A breathy sound that was likely supposed to express annoyance but only made his body clench tighter. “I am about to marry.”
He let out a growl of dissatisfaction. That wouldn’t do. Not at all.
* * *
