“That’s your compliment?” She stared at him, then laughed. “Yours are the worst.” She suddenly lifted herself slightly and leaned close, bringing her face up to his.
Dare froze. In anticipation. In terror. In both.
“I shall give you one more.” And then her soft lips collided with his cheek in a small peck. “Smooth.”
Dare was dead.
Dead.
Dead and gone.
Any moment now he would slump on the seat and never wake up again. Would anyone be able to revive him after this?
No.
If anyone could, it would be her.
And only her.
God, I’m in trouble.
Chapter Eleven
The warehouse wasthick with swirling tendrils of gray smoke, hanging heavy like a dense fog that softened the harsh lines over the scene ahead. Leonora usually didn’t mind the smell, or men enjoying a cheroot, but the fumes of burning tobacco and stale ale fused with the sounds of loud laughter, creating a rather stuffy atmosphere.
Yet the excitement was palpable. And intoxicating.
Thankfully, she’d adjusted her attire a bit. No lady would be foundhere. She still didn’t quite fit in. It was evident in the quality of her clothes measured against her fellow female attendants’ attire. She didn’t want to stand out either.
Leonora observed in fascination as her fellow sex cheered and—saints preserve her!—sworejust as loudly as the men in the room, sights and sounds she’d never experienced before.
“Stay close.” Dare’s shoulder brushed hers, and she caught the two heated pools of his eyes on her. “Close.”
“Close,” she mimicked. Her shoulder nudged him back. “Close.”
He scoffed, but the corner of his lips inched upward.
Leonora’s attention shifted to where their shoulders just touched and held back a retort, heart beating furiously. “I thought there would be more people.”
“It’s a private match.” He paused. “More private than most.”
Dare led her through the raucous crowd, keeping very close, protecting her against any jostling, eventually coming to a stopat the fringes of a circle formed around the boxers by the people gathered. In the center, one man was dancing from foot to foot while the other lazily stretched out his arms.
Leonora blinked. “I somehow pictured this all differently in my mind.”
“This is not your normal match.”
“So, I gathered.” However, that was not what she meant. She somehow thought it would be more official. Though why she thought that, she couldn’t say.
Suddenly, the man who’d been stretching out his muscles glanced their way. His gaze flicked over Dare before he looked straight at her, dark eyes burning into her. Leonora swallowed back a gasp.
Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord.
A deep scar ran down the length of his face. It gave the man an intimidating and rather menacing appearance. Did he get the scar from boxing? Surely not. Only a dagger or sword could inflict such damage. Which made him seem all themoreintriguing.
Her lips stretched up in a grin.
She couldn’t help it. He was looking at her as though he couldn’t quite fathom her presence, so quite naturally the urge to tease, even provoke, bubbled to the surface.
