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Authors: Tessa Dare
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innocent.
His pride spoke ahead of his judgment. “You could not be aware of it, Lucy, but I do have a certain reputation. The others here, they are used to watching me seduce ladies in Town. They expect it. It will strike no one as surprising, should we take up a flirtation.” This was mostly true. Of course a flirtation would not strike Henry, Toby, or Felix as surprising, since they had all insisted he begin one.
Lucy sat up in her seat. “Jemmy—are you trying to tell me you’re a rake?”
She burst into laughter. Had she not been laughing at him , Jeremy would have thought it an altogether pleasant sound. “I don’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head.
She reached toward the chessboard, and he caught her hand in his. “Believe me,” he whispered. “When I wish to be, I can be very convincing.” He followed the seam of her fingers with this thumb, tracing slowly upward until he reached the soft cleft below her knuckles. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted.
Then he stroked the spot lightly—a quick, circular caress—and she made a little sound, half gasp and half sigh.
That little sound—that tiny, panting breath—was very nearly his undoing. Jeremy knew that sound. It was the tumbler of a lock falling in place, the charged crackle between lightning and thunderbolt, the hiss of a candlewick the instant before it comes alive with flame. An incomplete sound. A sound that promised—and begged for—more.
Lust blazed through him, and he dropped her hand as if burnt.
Lucy crossed her arms and sank into her chair, her eyes studying his face. Then she smiled—a sly, kittenish curling of the lips that looked to be the devil’s own grin.
Jeremy swore inwardly. He ought to rise from his chair that instant and walk away. It was true that Henry and Toby had urged him to do exactly as Lucy suggested, but he had no duty to oblige them. Lucy was not his sister. She was not his admirer. But through some absurd twist of fate and fishing line, she had become his problem.
Because he knew Lucy. She would go after Toby, with or without his help. The alternative to this ruse, in her eyes, involved a certain high-necked shift and bold flashes of bare, golden skin. And Jeremy found he didn’t like that alternative. At all.
“So you’ll do it,” she said slowly. “You’ll pretend to court me.”
“Pretend,” he stressed, sighing heavily. “Yes.”
Lucy smiled.
She liked this plan. She liked it very much. It made perfect sense.
Seeing Toby with Sophia Hathaway had propelled her to new heights of jealous desperation. It had propelled her into a river. If any ploy could make Toby see her in a new light, this one could.
And better still, the plan offered a source of amusement in the bargain. A chance to needle Jeremy to distraction.
She viewed Jeremy’s expression—his usual stern, sober veneer. An irresistible challenge. Yes, she liked the plan very much.
She allowed a few moments to pass in silence. Time to crack the egg. “So, Jemmy—just how in love with me are you?”
She was rewarded with an expression of sheer panic. Oh, this was going to be fun.
“I beg your pardon?”
“And I accept your apology,” she teased. She captured his knight with her rook. “Check.”
He stared at her with an expression of utter bewilderment. One would think he’d never played chess before.
She took pity on him. “It’s just that, if you’re to be my suitor, I’d like to know exactly what level of devotion I can expect. Are you merely admiring? Thoroughly besotted? Completely and utterly lovestruck?
”
He exhaled with obvious relief. “Let’s not get carried away,” he growled, moving his king out of danger. “Besotted should do.”
“Besotted it is, then.” She repositioned her rook.
“Check.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I do believe a besotted suitor would let me win.”
“Never.” He captured her rook with his queen.
The smug set of his jaw charmed his
His pride spoke ahead of his judgment. “You could not be aware of it, Lucy, but I do have a certain reputation. The others here, they are used to watching me seduce ladies in Town. They expect it. It will strike no one as surprising, should we take up a flirtation.” This was mostly true. Of course a flirtation would not strike Henry, Toby, or Felix as surprising, since they had all insisted he begin one.
Lucy sat up in her seat. “Jemmy—are you trying to tell me you’re a rake?”
She burst into laughter. Had she not been laughing at him , Jeremy would have thought it an altogether pleasant sound. “I don’t believe it,” she said, shaking her head.
She reached toward the chessboard, and he caught her hand in his. “Believe me,” he whispered. “When I wish to be, I can be very convincing.” He followed the seam of her fingers with this thumb, tracing slowly upward until he reached the soft cleft below her knuckles. He watched as her eyes widened and her lips parted.
Then he stroked the spot lightly—a quick, circular caress—and she made a little sound, half gasp and half sigh.
That little sound—that tiny, panting breath—was very nearly his undoing. Jeremy knew that sound. It was the tumbler of a lock falling in place, the charged crackle between lightning and thunderbolt, the hiss of a candlewick the instant before it comes alive with flame. An incomplete sound. A sound that promised—and begged for—more.
Lust blazed through him, and he dropped her hand as if burnt.
Lucy crossed her arms and sank into her chair, her eyes studying his face. Then she smiled—a sly, kittenish curling of the lips that looked to be the devil’s own grin.
Jeremy swore inwardly. He ought to rise from his chair that instant and walk away. It was true that Henry and Toby had urged him to do exactly as Lucy suggested, but he had no duty to oblige them. Lucy was not his sister. She was not his admirer. But through some absurd twist of fate and fishing line, she had become his problem.
Because he knew Lucy. She would go after Toby, with or without his help. The alternative to this ruse, in her eyes, involved a certain high-necked shift and bold flashes of bare, golden skin. And Jeremy found he didn’t like that alternative. At all.
“So you’ll do it,” she said slowly. “You’ll pretend to court me.”
“Pretend,” he stressed, sighing heavily. “Yes.”
Lucy smiled.
She liked this plan. She liked it very much. It made perfect sense.
Seeing Toby with Sophia Hathaway had propelled her to new heights of jealous desperation. It had propelled her into a river. If any ploy could make Toby see her in a new light, this one could.
And better still, the plan offered a source of amusement in the bargain. A chance to needle Jeremy to distraction.
She viewed Jeremy’s expression—his usual stern, sober veneer. An irresistible challenge. Yes, she liked the plan very much.
She allowed a few moments to pass in silence. Time to crack the egg. “So, Jemmy—just how in love with me are you?”
She was rewarded with an expression of sheer panic. Oh, this was going to be fun.
“I beg your pardon?”
“And I accept your apology,” she teased. She captured his knight with her rook. “Check.”
He stared at her with an expression of utter bewilderment. One would think he’d never played chess before.
She took pity on him. “It’s just that, if you’re to be my suitor, I’d like to know exactly what level of devotion I can expect. Are you merely admiring? Thoroughly besotted? Completely and utterly lovestruck?
”
He exhaled with obvious relief. “Let’s not get carried away,” he growled, moving his king out of danger. “Besotted should do.”
“Besotted it is, then.” She repositioned her rook.
“Check.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I do believe a besotted suitor would let me win.”
“Never.” He captured her rook with his queen.
The smug set of his jaw charmed his
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