Page 110 of The Devil of Clan Sinclair
“I don’t want to move.”
“But you have,” he said, smiling lightly. “I expect the wagon to arrive momentarily with your possessions.”
“I told them not to move anything until I returned.”
“I told them to ignore anything you said.”
She frowned at him. “Let me go back to London.”
“Alistair needs his mother.”
“Yes, he does,” she said. “In London.”
“He’s not going anywhere. Nor are you.”
“How do you expect to keep me here?”
He smiled. “Charm? Seduction? Cogent arguments?”
She didn’t doubt all three would work, the first two faster than the third. Even now her heart was beating rapidly and her palms were sweaty. He had that effect on her. He seemed to know it, too, if his smile was any gauge.
“If I allow you to seduce me, will you let me leave?”
“With Alistair? No.”
She’d known the answer to the question even before asking it.
“What if I seduced you?” She fixed a smile on her face, keeping it there by will alone.
His smile slipped a little but the expression in his eyes didn’t cool by one degree.
Perhaps he was the devil, indeed. She was not, however, an angel.
“You did before, as I recall.”
Her fingers curled against her palms. Looking down, she marveled at the perfection of the flagstones. How many maids labored here to make everything tidy and dust free, to keep all the brass polished? She had no doubt Brianag was a martinet.
“Virginia.”
She would not look at him.
“You have a choice, Virginia. To occupy my room, or the suite across the hall.”
Suddenly he was there, standing in front of her chair. He pulled her up to him, and in the next instant was leaning close, his lips against her temple.
“Please do not,” she said, pulling away from him.
“Why? Have you developed a distaste for my kisses?”
She walked toward the fireplace. Perhaps she should grab a poker for protection.
“What good does it do to kiss you? To lose myself in your kisses? I’ll surrender to you and you’ll take me to your bed. In the morning there would be the same problems between us.”
“At least we’ll have the memory of pleasure,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She glanced over her shoulder at him and shook her head.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “You’re a temptation. A drug. You’re whiskey.”
