Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

Devlin leaned in, a fraction closer than was proper in polite company. “You call what went on between us a distraction?”

“What would you call it?” demanded Anna, then immediately decided she had made a tactical mistake. “No, no, don’t answer that,” she muttered.

A devilish glint hung for an instant on the dark curl of his lashes…

The small valley between her breasts suddenly began to bead with sweat. Really, it was most unfair of the Almighty. No man ought to be blessed with such sensuous eyes.

And then he smiled.

Had he noticed her involuntary reaction? The dratted man seemed to have a sixth sense for Sin.

“Miss Sloane, there are a number of words I could use to describe our encounter. But no matter how softly I whisper”—his breath was now tickling her cheek—“none of them ought to be uttered in public.”

She edged back a step, hoping he couldn’t hear the quickening thump-thump of her heart.

“Miss Sloane, Lord Davenport, might I join you?” Prince Gunther paused politely by the display of roses. “Or am I interrupting a private conversation?”

“Not at all,” responded Anna.

“Excellent.” He came to stand by Devlin, who had assumed a bored slouch. “I wanted to tell you that I found a lovely fourteenth-century illuminated Book of Hours in the manuscript section of the library. The colors and gold leaf detailings are exquisite, and I thought you might like to see it tomorrow when I return from the moors.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t plan any leisure activities,” drawled Devlin. “Our Scottish Huntmaster has made it known—with fiendish delight, I might add—that he intends on driving us into the ground. To begin with, he demands that we assemble in the Gun Room at the God-benighted hour of five in the morning.”

“Oh, I am quite used to early hours and vigorous exercise during a hunting excursion,” replied the prince. “It’s quite bracing.”

“You are clearly a better fellow than I am.” Devlin gave an exaggerated shudder. “I had better go find another drink to fortify myself for the coming ordeal.”

Anna deliberately avoided meeting his gaze. “Retiring at an early hour after supper might be a better option, Lord Davenport.?

??

“Sleep? What a tiresome thought,” replied Devlin. “Especially when a house party presents so many more enjoyable activities to engage in.” With that he sketched a bow and sauntered off.

“An interesting fellow,” observed Prince Gunther.

Anna expelled an exasperated sigh. “That is a very charitable description.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “I had assumed the two of you were good friends, given how often Lord Davenport seeks out your company.”

“Not exactly.” She wasn’t quite sure how explain their relationship. “As you have noticed, the marquess finds it diverting to needle people. That I react to his barbs seems to amuse him, so perhaps that’s the reason.”

The prince raised a brow. “That sounds rather ungentlemanly.”

“Yes,” agreed Anna. “So it does.”

“Have you finally tired of young innocent girls?”

Devlin looked up from the amber-dark depth of his whisky.

“They are so naïve, non?” went on Lady de Blois. “I confess, it surprised me that you paid them any attention.” With a graceful little flourish—a gesture that had likely been perfected in front of a looking glass, he thought cynically—she tapped her fan lightly against his shoulder. “Until I heard that the elder one has recently been gifted with a very generous dowry.”

He smiled, though his hand tightened around his glass. “Yes, money is very seductive.”

A low, trilling laugh rippled through the air. “Yes, indeed.” Sidling closer, she toyed with the fringe of her shawl, shifting its folds just enough to expose a better view of her gown’s low-cut bodice. “But so are other things.”

“Like baubles?” he suggested.

Another laugh. “Oui. I like things of beauty, like precious gems, gleaming gold.” A pause. “And handsome men.”