“Why?” she demanded, her voice high, tinged with a bit of an embarrassing squeak.
“To teach you a lesson, of course.”
A lesson?
Something warm slid through her. Something nothing at all like alarm but instead…anticipation.
“Are you going to ravish me?”
He stilled, his gaze burning into hers. “Do you want me to, minx?”
Yes! Her body was clamoring with the need to reply in the affirmative. Yes in every way!
“Absolutely not, Sutton,” she lied, making a show of righting the fall of her skirts about her. “This is unconscionable and terribly scandalous of you.”
He moved toward her, looming tall and not menacing but somehow thrilling in the sinful shadows. “You like scandals, if I recall.”
“Not my own.” Mirabel would be furious with her if she discovered her current predicament. “What is the meaning of bringing me here?”
He flashed her a grin. “You’ll not be climbing any more trees this evening.”
There was a distinct disadvantage to returning in the same fashion she had fled Tarlington House. Likely, climbing the tree from the courtyard would not be easy, given the injuries she had already sustained. However, there was the matter of her sister learning what she had done.
Mirabel would not be happy.
The repercussions would likely be quite damning.
Why, her sister could even force her to return to Mama and Papa.
“What does climbing trees have to do with bringing me to your chamber?” she asked instead of giving voice to the fears churning through her.
“I’m keeping you safe, minx.” He sketched an exaggerated bow. “You’re welcome.”
The alarm she had been lacking before stole through her now. “You cannot keep me here, Sutton.”
He winked. “See if I can’t. Unlike most, I see the value in locks on interior doors. Never know when one needs to make use of them.”
And then, the rogue began stalking from the chamber.
Octavia slid from the bed, wincing when her sore ankle received the full weight of her body, and rushed after him. “Sutton,” she called after his broad, retreating back. “This is madness. Come back here!”
Whistling a ditty, he crossed the threshold and closed the door at his back just as she reached it. The undeniable sound of a key turning and a lock sliding into place reached her. She pounded on the door. “Sutton?”
No one answered.
“You kidnapped a gentry mort.”
His brother Rafe’s words drew Jasper’s attention from studying the remaining gin in his glass. “I wouldn’t say I did.”
They were seated in one of the private rooms where patrons could dine if they chose. With the lateness of the hour, no one was in search of food. It was a slow evening, the tables not overrun as they were on some nights, and their younger brother Hart was watching the floor.
“Oh? And what would you call it, wise brother of mine?” Rafe taunted.
Rafe was second in command at The Sinner’s Palace. Each of the siblings had a role in the hell. Jasper had seen to it that they would. Family—his family—was all important. Through their darkest days, it was what had held them all together.
“I would call it doing the lady a favor.” He swirled his gin and then tossed back the last of it.
The burn was not as gratifying as it ordinarily was.