Page 21 of The Virgin and the Viscount

Her skin was flushed and her green eyes blazed. “Then what the devil was that?”

He tilted his head. “Had I not said something, she would have destroyed your reputation. She is a notorious gossip.”

“I’m well aware of who she is, but we are not married.”

He shrugged. “We will be, soon enough.”

“And you are so confident that I would agree to your proposal?”

“Freckles, you are an intelligent woman. You’d be a fool not to marry me as I can’t imagine you’re eager for your parents to ship you off to the countryside.”

Yes, she was willful. Yes, she despised him. But he was determined to do right by her, and Lady Evanberry’s confrontation had given him the perfect opportunity to force her hand.

He might even feel bad about his blatant manipulation if she didn’t feel so damn perfect in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, to know what her lips tasted like, how her tongue felt sliding against his own.

She made a disgusted face. “You are ridiculous.”

He tugged her ever so closer to his body, slid his hand familiarly up her spine. “Careful, sweetheart, we are madly in love, remember?”

“That’s your story, not mine.”

They were quiet for a few measures of the music. If they didn’t have an audience, he would kiss her. He’d put his hands on either side of her face, stare into those grassy-green eyes of hers, and press his mouth to hers. She’d no doubt open her mouth with indignation, giving him the perfect opportunity to sweep his tongue inside and ravish her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

“I’m not certain what you mean.”

“You have an odd expression on your face.”

The look of desire. Lust. Not that he would admit that to her. “I thought you’d be proud. I’m taking social action. You’re already a good influence on me, Freckles.”

She snorted. “You’re ridiculous.” But even she couldn’t hide the slight tilt of her lips.

“Tell me, do those freckles cover all of your body or just your neck and arms?” He slid one finger down her bare arm, and she shivered in response. He could lean down and suckle that tender spot right below her ear. Right where her pulse tapped against her perfect pale skin.

She swallowed visibly, the black in her pupils widening, swallowing up the green. “It is not kind to tease about something for which I have no power to change.”

“Change? Why the devil would I want you to change?”

Her brow tightened in obvious confusion, her gaze darting away from his as she pulled away from him just a fraction. As though she was retreating into herself. As though she wanted to hide.

How did she not know how beautiful she was?

He swore, as something inexplicable flooded him—something that felt like rage—as the obvious answer came to him.

She didn’t know because no one had ever told her. Because she was surrounded by fools who found her sister’s pale fragility more appealing. People who didn’t value her wit and intelligence, let alone her alluring freckles.

She may be the most irritating woman of his acquaintance, but she was by far the most intriguing.

“You have no notion how maddening I find these freckles.” He swept his thumb across a clump of them exposed on her shoulder. “I’ve spent far too much time contemplating them, wondering if I could join them to create pictures. Imagining whether or not they cover your entire body or only certain parts of you.” He was saying too much, he recognized that. Revealing his hand before the game had even properly begun. But damnation, holding her this close to him, smelling her sweet and spicy scent that was only her, he couldn’t keep his mouth closed. Was it his imagination that she smelled of cinnamon or was it simply his imagination because that is what her hair had always reminded him of?

“You shouldn’t say such things. They make me blush,” she whispered.

“Nothing wrong with a man flirting with his wife.”

“Perhaps not, but blushing only makes my skin splotchy and uneven. It’s not very becoming.”

He cocked a brow at her. “Says who?”

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