Sinfully Yours (Hellions of High Street 2)

“I’ve hurt your feelings,” she said, sounding surprised.

“How could you?” Devlin replied, assuming his most offensive drawl. He did not wish for her to see, that yes, she had cut him, more than he cared to admit. “I have none of those either.”

Anna looked away. In the shifting shadows, it was impossible to read her expression. “Forgive me, I should have worded my reaction differently.”

The iron fist in the velvet glove, rather than bare steel smacking him square in the gut?

“You took me by surprise,” she added softly.

“My apologies,” he said stiffly, “for upsetting you with such an outrageous proposal.”

“Being surprised is not the same thing as being upset.”

“Clearly I don’t understand the nuances of language as you do,” he growled. “I’m an idiot, remember?”

“Are you now going to sulk?” she inquired.

His temper, which had been hanging on by a thread, suddenly snapped. “Satan stick me with his pitchfork! I am not sulking!”

She lifted a brow.

“Men don’t sulk.”

“Apparently they do,” replied Anna calmly. “I’ve seen a great many sulks, and you are definitely sulking.”

Trying to maintain some stitch of dignity—his manly pride seemed to have been lost in the helter-pelter jumble of clothing on the floor—Devlin decided to prove her wrong. “Let us drop the subject, shall we? If not marriage, what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Anna smoothed the velvet down over her bare toes. “I really have hurt your feelings.”

“Let us drop the subject, shall we?”

Hitching closer, a move that revealed an all-too-tantalizing peek at her breasts, Anna touched a hand to his cheek. “I’m sorry. I truly didn’t mean to.”

At her touch, his resolve to remain angry seemed to flit away like a midnight shadow. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, you wounded my vanity.” He forced a smile. “There is a great difference.”

“Men!” she declared, sounding exasperated. “I swear, for all your fearsome huffing and puffing, you are even more delicate creatures than women.”

“Are you now questioning my manhood?” Chuckling, Devlin pulled her into his arms. “I shall be happy to give another demonstration to prove that I am not a wilting flower.”

Anna snuggled against his chest, her breath tickling sweetly against his skin. “I was speaking metaphorically.”

“Use small words please, so that my delicate brain can understand them.”

She laughed softly, dispelling the worst of the darkness that had settled in the pit of his belly. “Did we just have our first quarrel?”

He gave a mock grimace. “Hardly. We have been spatting like cats and hounds ever since we met.”

“I suppose we did go at it tooth and nail for the first few confrontations,” she mused. “But then…”

Devlin waited for her to go on.

“But then, it became more of…a game is not at all the right word. Perhaps a better way to describe is a test of wits.”

“And wills?” he suggested. “You are used to being adored. That I didn’t fawn over you piqued your interest.”

“You are used to being reviled. That I wasn’t afraid of you was something you found intriguing.” She pulled a face. “At least I knew you weren’t paying attention to me because of my money. I had none to speak of.”

He felt himself stiffen as her words stirred an unpleasant thought. Did she think his mention of marriage had anything to do with her newfound wealth? Wrexham was a very rich man, and it was said he had gifted both of the younger Sloanes with generous dowries. As to the amount, he hadn’t a clue.