Brava ancora. He could guess how awkward she felt in his presence after what had happened—and not happened—last night. Still she came back fighting. “At least let me rest my ageing bones on a cushion while you harangue me.”
No answering humor. She continued to eye him warily. “I’d prefer to go.”
“I’m sure you would. But I’ve still got Roberta’s vowels. Or had you forgotten?”
Her magnificent eyes flashed hatred. “I hadn’t forgotten. I paid you last night.”
He gave her a nasty smile. “That’s a matter of opinion.” He gestured toward the library. “Miss Forsythe?”
She glowered at him, then glanced at Mrs. Bevan, who watched with avid interest. The girl’s color deepened and she nodded abruptly. “Five minutes.”
Jonas knew not to push his advantage. Or at least to wait until they were alone before he did. He opened the door and ushered her into the book-lined room.
Her shoulders tensed into a ruler-straight line when he lifted her cloak away. The white gown beneath was as inappropriate as ever. Although he appreciated the way it strained across her full bosom. As if once more shaping her perfect breasts, his hands curled in the cloak’s rough wool. Yielding to temptation, he leaned in to catch her fresh scent. She didn’t smell like rain this morning. Instead she smelled of lemon soap. Still, the commonplace fragrance stirred turbulent eddies of desire in his blood. He dropped the cloak onto a chair and stepped closer to release the ribbons on her unbecoming bonnet. Whoever chose her clothing should be drawn and quartered.
She batted his hand away and her breath accelerated—whether with fear or excitement, he wasn’t sure. Probably a mixture of the two. “Stop it.”
“Just making you comfortable.” The ribbons loosened and he lifted the bonnet, tossing it on top of the cloak.
“As if you care for my comfort. If you did, you’d let me go.”
His lips twitched as he wandered away. “But that would have a disagreeable effect on my comfort.” He gestured toward a leather chair. “Please sit down.”
She remained standing uneasily in the center of the room. “No, thank you. I’ll be on my way shortly.”
He sauntered to the window and slouched against the frame, basking in the sun’s unseasonal warmth. Last night’s storm had blown itself out and the day outside was pleasant for November. Although he suspected the temperature inside the library was about to drop several degrees.
He fixed an unwavering stare upon her. “I hadn’t taken you for a cheat, Miss Forsythe.”
Her expression remained neutral, although she must know what he meant. “I’ve cheated you of nothing, Mr. Merrick.”
His tone held an edge. “What would you call bilking me of your company after promising… satisfaction?”
She paled and her gloved hand tightened around the handle of her bag. “You didn’t want me last night,” she said flatly.
He raised his eyebrows in mocking disbelief, while burgeoning need crooned its alluring song in his ears. “You’re not that innocent.”
She growled softly and swung away with a flounce of filmy skirts. He caught a glimpse of two well-turned ankles. Interesting that the sight proved so arousing when he’d already seen her naked.
“You’re in a humor to tease, I see.”
He tilted his head back against the window frame and surveyed her down the bumpy length of his broken nose. “No, I’m in a humor to have my bargain honored.”
She stopped and regarded him with a troubled light in her dark eyes. Grown men cringed from his scars. Why the hell didn’t his grotesque appearance daunt this untried girl?
“I offered my… services; you rejected them.” She set down the bag and stubbornness squared her jaw. “I’m within my rights to leave unmolested.”
“You’re quite the lawyer, Miss Forsythe. You employed similar sophistry last night when you presented yourself in your beguiling sister’s stead.”
Not that he could summon one morsel of regret for the exchange. Roberta was a beautiful, if shallow, creature, and he’d have fucked her perfectly happily. Not least because every time he poked her, he’d know he cuckolded his toad of a cousin.
But Roberta’s sister…
Sidonie Forsythe was a jewel such as he’d never encountered. He wasn’t fool enough to leave her where he’d found her and walk away whistling.
“Surely you won’t insist on full restitution.” The uncertainty that had always lurked beneath her bravado became overt. “Not after—”
“Presumably you arrived expecting to repay the debt as it stands,” he said coolly. He folded his arms across his chest to stop himself from reaching for her. One ridiculously chaste kiss, a brief exploration of silky skin, now the craving to touch her was a fever.