Part 23 (2/2)

Because of the step, all he needed to do was lower his head to look her in the eye. He did; his gaze locked with hers. His features could have been hewn from granite. ”You will promise me you will do no more testing-not unless it's in public.”

Her temper returned with a vengeance. She let it burn in her eyes as she tested his grip, more out of instinct than expectation. His fingers tightened, just enough for her to feel their steely strength, to know she couldn't break free, but he wasn't gripping tightly-she couldn't claim he was hurting her. She didn't dare s.h.i.+ft her body away from the wall. If she did, she'd move into him.

”Men!” She spat the word like an epithet into his face. ”You are all alike! Not to be trusted!”

By sheer luck, she hit a nerve-touched tinder to his temper; she saw it spark in his eyes, saw his lips thin.

”We arenot all alike.”

Every word was gritted out.

She raised a haughty brow. ”Do you mean I can trust you?” She widened her eyes, daring him to lie.

His eyes remained on hers; she caught a glimpse, unexpected, of sudden turmoil.

”Yes!”He flung the word at her; it struck her, left her reeling. She immediately sensed him soften, rein in his temper. ”In your case . . . yes.”

Her heart had leaped to her throat. Shocked, she searched his eyes. He wasn't lying, even though his temper still prowled, as did hers. But she knew truth when she heard it; he had no reason to lie. But what reason could he have? . . .

”Why?” She searched his hard features, hoping to catch some hint.

Sebastian knew the answer-could feel the power rise through his anger, shading it, controlling it.

She'd refused to go apart with him-to let him talk with her privately, feel his way with her-even though his intentions were, this time, of the most honorable. Instead, she'd tapped Markham on the shoulder and slipped away with him.

He'd been coldly furious. Why? Because she meant more to him than any other woman ever had.

He'd been watching when she and Markham had left the ballroom. He'd followed to ensure nothing came of the incident. Only to learn . . .

The idea that she might willingly put herself in the way of the type of insult Markham had offered was not to be borne.

Why? Because he cared.

The realization left him shaken-left him, for once, without any glib words, any drawling phrase to turn her mind away from what he'd only just realized and didn't yet want her to see.

Her eyes were wide green pools, easy to read, easy to drown in. She was caught, tempted . . . fascinated.

So was he.

He breathed deeply, trying to clear his mind, trying to think.

Her skin had heated, courtesy of his nearness; her perfume, French, elementally exotic, rose and wreathed his senses.

Their faces were close, as were their bodies-close enough for her to sense the change in his intent. Her eyes widened fractionally, then her lids fell as her gaze s.h.i.+fted from his eyes to his lips.

He closed the distance between them, slowly, unthreateningly.

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