“She was whispering an answer to a question I asked—a very important question. She came with me to identify—” He stopped short. “Millie, there are things about…” His voice trailed. “Hold on a moment. How did you recognize me?”
“Your shoulders, dunce.” She shook him once more time.
Then, a terrible emotion that felt suspiciously like jealousy choked her into silence and stillness.Not his mistress. She had to remind herself.
She believed him about that, too.
Her harsh breathing shifted, their breath mingling in the small space between them. She tried but could not make herself let him go. She should. She must. In fact, she shoulddemandhe leave, too. But no argument she could think of would pry her hands from his coat, not even the recollection of that awful shade of green.
She had Neville. And she refused to free him. Not until…
Not until…
Until what?
“Did you just say,” he spoke very slowly, “you recognized me bymy shoulders?”
“They are distinctive,” she said defensively.Obviously.
“Distinctive.” He sounded dumfounded. “My God—”
She scowled. In their short conversation, Neville had broken the first commandment too many times for her to remember. He must beout of his mindtonight. He, who was always so controlled….
“You find my shoulders distinctive?” he asked.
What waswrongwith him? Couldn’t he properly hear?
“Impossible…” His voice trailed. “Absolutely impossible. You’re—”
“Don’t bother to finish,” she interrupted him. “I already know what you’re going to say. Ialwaysknow what you’re going to say.”
“Then what do you think I am about to say now?” His grip on her waist tightened.
A thrill passed through her body. But not, this time, anger…nor fear, but something closer to the invigorating feeling she’d felt in the maze. And the dazed sense she’d had with Willard? She no longer felt even a whiff.
Yes, Neville’s hold had firmed. But she had a solid clasp on him, too.
If she wanted, she could bring up her knee and slam him hard where he would hurt most. Then, if she wanted, she could shove him clear across the room.
Didshe want to do either?
No.No, she didn’t. Not while she was still quite enjoying his heat.
“See?” he challenged. “You have no idea, do you?”
“You were going to say,” she answered with confidence she no longer felt, “that I am trouble.”
He sighed harshly. “You, Millicent Wainwright, are not just trouble. You’re… Oh, God help me.”
As he turned his head away, his cheek scraped against hers.
Heat cascaded through her body. She was fully alert. Again, not with fear, but with an unfamiliar sense of excited anticipation.
“Next, you’ll be telling me I am”—she altered her voice and mimicked Willard’s cadence—“en-tire-ly un-a-ware of the ef-fect I have on men.”
“What thedevil, Millie? I would never imply—” He stopped himself. “You know I have never said any such thing!”
“Youdidn’t.”