“This is...dangerous.” But she wasn’t speaking of her attacker anymore. She knew she should move away, withdraw her hand from Ethan’s and retreat from enemy territory, but her body was frozen under the strength of his stare.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll protect you.” The arrogant flash of his white teeth broke the spell momentarily. Not only would this engagement ball feed the gossip mills, but, by Winterbourne’s own account, the affair would expose her family and everyone present at the ball to danger. Even he, seasoned warrior that he was, couldn’t protecteveryone. And she could not allow her family to be threatened. She already blamed herself for Nat.
She snatched her hand away. “And what about my family?” she argued. “Will you protect them and all of our guests as well?”
His face darkened, but he didn’t respond.
“You can’t even be certain you’ll catch the attacker, but I can be certain my entire family will suffer the ridicule of theton.” She pointed a finger at him.
His hand closed around her outstretched wrist, and he yanked her forward until their faces were inches apart. “I will protect your reputation.” His warm breath tickled her cheek.
She tried to pull away again, but he held her fast. “How? By being unfaithful to me? All that does is prove to everyone you never really wanted me.”
“I do want you.” He gripped her other hand, pulled her body toward him until her knees brushed his.
“You want to marry me?”
He opened his mouth then closed it again.
“Ha!” She gave a particularly violent tug then, but he only hauled her closer until she was practically nose-to-nose with him. She paused to catch her breath. “If you insist on this ball, I won’t attend.”
He gave her a slashing smile, and she gritted her teeth. It was an idle threat, she knew. With her parents on his side, she really had little choice.
“You’re looking at this all wrong, Francesca.”
She scowled into his face. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Do you?” He arched a brow.
She’d stopped struggling for a moment, and he took full advantage of her momentary pause, locked one hand around her waist, and dragged her onto his lap.
The chair screeched almost as loudly as Francesca. “What are you doing? This is completely inappropriate.” And yet it felt delicious. His body was warm and solid, and she wanted to burrow against him and breathe him in.
“On the contrary,” he said, settling her on his thighs. “I think affection is to be expected, considering we’re betrothed.”
His adjustment had served to balance her weight, but it also pressed her intimately against him. One arm cradled her waist while the other locked across her knees. Her shoulder and hip were pressed against his hard torso, and underneath her bottom she felt the toned muscles of his thighs flex.
“We arenotbetrothed.” Her voice was breathless.
He eyed her with a look of mock contemplation. “You keep pointing that out. It might be the problem,cara.”
She straightened, causing the tottering chair to protest again. “Don’t call me that. My mother calls me that.”
“I like it.Carasuits you.” He winked, holding her tighter. “What will you call me?”
A few choice words came to mind but, considering her present position, she decided to refrain from mentioning them. He grinned at her, apparently reading her thoughts.
“A wise decision,cara.” He leaned back comfortably, and pulled her closer. He seemed in no hurry to let her up no matter how she squirmed to get loose. “I have always been partial to the French endearments—chéri,mon amour.” He wiggled his brows. “Mon Dieu—”
“Oh, Lord!” She directed her eyes heavenward at his vanity.
“Now that’s the idea.” He gave her a cocksure smile.
“Now I’m standing up!” She lurched away from him again and was rewarded as his grip slipped from her legs briefly before enclosing her in his warmth again.
“But as you seem to be having difficulty just remembering my name, I’ll settle for Ethan.”
“I’ll call youEthan!” she spat, squirming again.
