To Romance a Charming Rogue (Courtship Wars)

“Perhaps, but to my mind he has suffered too many recent mishaps for it to be mere coincidence. It's possible t

hat someone actually may want to harm him.”

“Who, then?”

“I haven't the foggiest idea.” Looking thoughtful, Damon moved over to her bed and settled one hip on the mattress. Before Eleanor could protest, he went on as if musing aloud. “I did note that the pickpocket looked as if he could have been a countryman of Laz-zara's. They shared the same olive complexion. At the theater this evening, however, there was no one of that appearance near him other than Signor Vecchi.”

“But Signor Vecchi would not push his own relative down the stairs,” Eleanor said, frowning in puzzlement.

“I shouldn't think so.”

Her frown deepened. “If some unknown assailant is trying to do the prince harm, I would very much like to discover the culprit so he can be stopped. Laz-zara could be seriously hurt.”

“I would like to know as well,” Damon declared. “As long as he is courting you, you could be in danger. ”

Her eyes widened a little. “You are worried for my safety?”

“Is that so incomprehensible, Elle?”

His tone had softened a measure, and Eleanor felt her own defenses slacken. “No, I suppose not.”

“I dislike you associating so closely with Lazzara,” Damon said. “If these attacks keep up, you could be hurt. And I won't stand idly by and let that happen, Eleanor.”

He held her gaze, making her suddenly aware of her near state of undress and the tangled covers on the bed.

“Thank you for your concern, my lord,” Eleanor hastened to say, “but you should go. You shouldn't be here,” she repeated.

Showing no signs of preparing to leave, Damon smiled crookedly. “You must at least give me credit for resourcefulness. You wouldn't allow me a moment of privacy with you, so I was forced to take drastic measures. It wasn't easy, climbing that damned oak tree outside your window.”

Eleanor was surprised to hear herself laugh softly. It was deplorable how Damon could make her laugh when she should be irate at him for risking her reputation.

“See,” he said casually, “you admire a man who can keep you on your toes.”

She tried to hide a smile. “If you are fishing for compliments, you will grow old and gray before I add to your conceit.”

Damon shook his head as he drawled in a wry tone, “I may not have the opportunity to grow any older after tonight. My valet will have my head if I have ruined my new coat. Cornby sets great store in turning me out as a gentleman of fashion.”

He looked little the worse for wear, she thought, other than his sable hair was more tousled than usual.

“Then again,” Damon continued more affably, “you might rejoice at my demise.”

“Of course I would not rejoice.” Her desire to smile vanished. She certainly did not wish for Damon's demise. She just didn't want him anywhere near her, especially when she was at such a disadvantage.

“Seriously, Damon, you must leave. You said you didn't want to put me at risk, and your simply being in my bedchamber could cause a scandal.”

“True, it could.” Yet instead of acceding to her request, Damon shifted his weight so he was sitting on the edge of her bed, looking as if he intended to stay put. “But I believe you owe me an apology first for accusing me so unjustly.”

“Very well, I apologize. Now, will you please go?”

“I fancy I deserve a better one than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you need to kiss me.”

Eleanor's heart missed a beat. He was demanding a kiss as an apology?

“Come here, Elle,” he murmured when she stood rooted to the floor.