Page 45 of Must Love Scoundrels
“Let me return the chair to the table. If they do come, I want nothing disturbed.” She rose and moved the chair back to the table. Then she stood to the side of the window and looked out. Her back was rigid and straight, her long tail of hair pulled over one shoulder. “You must think me an absolute idiot and the worst agent in the Royal Saboteurs.”
“What? That characterization couldn’t be any further from the truth.” How could she not know how much he admired her abilities?
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better. I would have failed this assignment miserably if Fog were scoring us. You know it.”
Considering he’d ended up on the floor, curled in a ball, he would have failed as well. “This isn’t a training exercise. The only way we fail is if Master Johnny ends up dead.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You do everything perfectly every time. You always hit the target. You always mix the right concoction to make an explosive. You always have the fastest time on the evasive maneuvers course.”
“Not true. Hew and Will have beaten me more than once, and Cal can beat us all if he feels like it.”
“I’ve never beaten any of you.”
Duncan wished every movement he made didn’t cause him pain. He would have gone to her. “You just brought me to my knees. If that isn’t an evasive maneuver, I don’t know what is.”
She rounded on him. “Stop trying to make me feel better. You don’t know what it’s like always being the little sister. Always being the one who isn’t good enough.”
Duncan stared at her. He’d never seen this side of her before—insecure, vulnerable, questioning. She always seemed so confident, so sure of herself. “Not good enough?” He moved to stand, winced, and pushed through the dull pain. “You’re the daughter of Wolf and Saint. You were born for this.”
She shook her head. “Will was born to be an agent. I have always had to work harder than anyone else to even be half as capable as he.”
“And did you have to work harder than anyone else to learn Italian in three weeks? I still can’t say more thanBuongiorno.”
She waved a hand. “I can’t seem to grasp Russian. Mr. Dom has all but given up on me.”
“He’s given up on all of us. Besides, you speak it better than any of us. It’s the reading of it that’s impossible.”
“You can read it.”
He was behind her now, looking out on the dark waters of the Thames in the distance. “That’s because I look at it like a code.”
She turned to him. “That’s another area where I don’t measure up. I’m awful with codes.”
“You’re the best interrogator we have. If we ever catch our targets, I have no doubt, you’ll manage to pry every single piece of information out of them. You won’t even have to press them for it. You’ll charm it out of them.”
“I’m not charming.”
“You know you are. You use those dimples to your advantage every time.”
She turned and couldn’t stop her smile. There were the dimples in question. They’d be his undoing. “Fine. I can be charming, but that’s not a substitute for skill.”
“I’ll probably never father children because of your skill,” he said.
“Sorry about that. Again. But there’s no call for exaggeration. Your paramour will be disappointed for a day or two at most.”
And they were back to Molly and that kiss. Duncan rolled his eyes, even though it was too dark for her to see. “Molly is not my paramour. She kissedme, and it was the first time. It won’t happen again. Even if I were interested in her, I’m focused on this mission.”
And on you, he thought, but he didn’t say it. She’d questioned his scoundrel façade, but he didn’t have to reinforce the fact that he had no wicked ways.
“We’ll see about that,” she said, turning back to the window. Duncan opened his mouth to defend himself and then another thought occurred to him.
“Are you...jealous?”
She whirled around. “Jealous? No!”
His eyes widened. “Youarejealous.” She tried to give him her back again, but he grasped her shoulder and held her in place. “Admit it.”
“I’m not jealous of a housemaid.”
