Page 63 of The Defiant One
"Yes. And I'd better sneak out and return to my own townhouse before anyone recognizes me." She gazed into his eyes, loving the way they sloped down at the outer corners, giving him a lazy, sleepy look that, combined with the dimple that appeared on those infrequent occasions when he chose to smile, was enough to make her heart melt all the way down into her toes.
Heaven help her, her heart was melting now.
And so was her resolve to leave.
Still comfortably lying against and on his chest, she began to lean down, toward his now-smiling lips, a farewell kiss, nothing more —
When the door opened.
Celsie's head jerked up. There, standing in the doorway, was Lady Brookhampton, whom she remembered from her charity ball. With her was a beautiful young woman with bright gold hair and blue, blue eyes that were widening in shocked surprise.
"Nerissa!" howled Andrew, yanking the covers over Celsie's head to protect both her modesty and his sister's eyes from the implications of what they'd been up to. "What the thundering blazes are you doing here?!"
Nerissa's chin snapped up. She put her hands on her hips and, equally flustered, glared at him. "Well, this is, after all, my bedroom! I might ask what the blazes you're doing here!"
"I daresay the answer is obvious, my dear," drawled Lucien, coming up behind them and regarding Andrew with a victorious, maddening little smile. "Lady Brookhampton? Why don't you wait for us in the parlor? We'll join you shortly."
"Of course," murmured the older woman, narrowing her eyes with gleeful malice as she cast a last, lingering look at the bed. She gave a little hmph, turned on her heel and left.
The duke shook his head slowly back and forth in a faintly chastising way. "Really, Andrew. The damage you're doing to the family name . . . Abducting a lady without concern for her reputation, ravishing her without benefit of wedlock, coupling in your sister's bed . . . Dear me. What will people think? What, I wonder, did Lady Brookhampton think?"
Andrew felt as though he was going to burst an artery. "Why the devil was Lady Brookhampton even up here?!" he roared.
"Because Lucien said that a package arrived last night for me!" interrupted Nerissa, turning furiously on her urbane, unruffled brother. "But there was no package, was there? You just used that as an excuse to get Lady Brookhampton up here, didn't you? You know she has the biggest mouth in all London! You wanted her to catch Andrew and Celsie together!"
"Dear me," murmured Lucien, grinning faintly and pulling at his chin. "Do you really think me capable of such a diabolical plan?"
"He's been engaged in diabolical plans since the ball!" shouted Celsie, flinging back the coverlet at last.
"Ah, there you are, my dear. I knew you were under there somewhere."
Andrew, still in bed, his blood pressure rising dangerously, could feel his muscles beginning to constrict with an emotion that went beyond fury. He shut his eyes, balled his fists, and began counting to ten. "Nerissa, please leave us," he said through clenched teeth.
"Why?"
"Because what I am about to say to our brother is not fit for your ears. And what I am about to do to him is going to mean years of cleaning in order to remove the bloodstains from the carpet. It will not be a pretty sight, I can assure you."
"Then in that case, I'm staying. After all Lucien has done to ruin your life, after all I'm sure he'll do in an attempt to ruin mine, I should dearly love to see you do something that will make such a satisfying mess. Would you like your sword? I'd be happy to get it for you."
"There's a pistol on the highboy that would do equally nicely," snapped Celsie, glaring at the duke.
"My bare hands will suffice," Andrew gritted, swinging from the bed.
"Now, now, children, enough is enough," said the duke with infuriating mildness. "You will have to think of creative ways to murder me later on, because right now, there are far more pressing matters that demand your attention. Nerissa, you may leave us now."
"I will not!"
"Don't argue with me, my dear."
Nerissa took one look at Lucien's face, tossed her head, and turning on her heel, stormed off.
Andrew sat there, his hard stare burning into Lucien's. "I know what this looks like, but I can assure you that nothing happened between Celsie and me. We only slept together, not slept."
"Yes, that's all we did!" added Celsie, her face quite an incriminating shade of pink.
"Yes, well, do try telling that to Lady Brookhampton," murmured Lucien with infuriating suaveness. "And everyone else who will soon know about your ruination, my dear." He moved into the room, arms crossed, looking like a king who had just won the last country he had yet to conquer. "Really, Andrew, I do hope you're going to do right by the girl. She did, after all, say that she would marry you. But things have happened so quickly, have they not? Hardly enough time to prepare for such a momentous event . . . Ah, well. I am" — he grinned — "as usual, here to help."
Still wearing that infuriating smile, he reached into his coat pocket, extracted a sheet of vellum, and with a casual flick of his wrist, snapped it open.
