Page 44 of Heartbreaker

But she’d wanted it.

“I should certainly not have kissed you yesterday.”

She clenched her teeth and slid away, putting distancebetween them, hating the apology. She made a show of inspecting the contents of her carpetbag. “There is no reason to apologize for yesterday.”

He gave a little huff of humorless laughter. “That’s the most severe of my infractions.”

“I don’t know why,” she said. “You did not kiss me.”

“What?” He could not keep his surprise hidden. She liked that.

“You did not kiss me.”

“I did.” Insistence.

“You did not.”

“Miss Frampton—” Shehatedthat he called her that. “I assure you I did. I was there.”

She looked to him then, and at another time, she might have enjoyed his surprise. Not then, though. “No. I kissed you. That’s quite a different thing altogether. Therefore, you needn’t apologize.”

He let out a harsh sound. “You—”

“You needn’t dwell on your mistake, is my point, Your Grace.” She cut him off, waving at the bed, and continued, quickly and with a practiced lack of emotion. “Now. I am tired, and tomorrow will be a long day catching your brother and Lady Helene. Would you prefer to sleep in the bed or the chair?”

Another sound, this one as though he was being strangled.

She looked to him again, brows raised in question.

“The chair,” he said.

Of course he chose the chair. Such a gentleman, apologizing for being kissed and for touching her and being generally difficult to tolerate. “Then if you do not mind, would you exit the room so I might...” She waved a hand at the bed.

He immediately spun to face the door, putting his back to her. “Of course. Excuse me. Yes. Of course.” He took a few steps toward the door and then stopped, as thougha hound reaching the end of a lead. He looked back. “Only, if I leave . . .”

“Yes?”

“You’re not safe here.”

Adelaide could not help her little laugh.

He scowled. “You think that amusing?”

“I think it amusing that you think me unable to keep myself safe.” As though she hadn’t learned early to be her own savior.

His brow furrowed. Without a reply, he left, closing the door. Adelaide turned to the washbasin in the corner, telling herself it was all for the best. The apology. The way he’d clearly been horrified by the kiss on the docks. By touching her. He was a duke, after all, and she a thief born on the wrong side of the river.

Everything else was disguise.

She fetched soap and tooth powder from her bag, removed her spectacles and made quick work of her ablutions before stripping to her chemise. Crossing the room, she fetched the dossier from where it lay, but left a candle burning on the table, shadows dancing across the smooth surface of the puzzle box.

Returning the file to her bag, she told herself he could have his secrets. She wasn’t in the market for them.

It was a lie, of course. Every moment she spent with the Duke of Clayborn, she wished to know more of him. Which was dangerous, indeed, because knowing made for liking. And liking made for wanting.

And the Duke of Clayborn was not for Adelaide Frampton.

She woke in the morning to find the oak cube remained on the table, next to the snuffed candle. Across the room, the Duke of Clayborn slept in the chair... which he’d moved to block the door.

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