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“Because you’re sadly untrusting.” He paused. “And because you’re a clever woman.”
He caressed the sensitive skin of her wrist. The leisurely stroking made her belly clench with longing, even as she recognized he sought to manipulate her back into his arms. “If I was clever, I’d have fled as soon as I saw you’d weaseled between the sheets.”
He sat up, his shirt sagging to reveal the curve of one powerful shoulder. The sight of smooth tanned skin dried every drop of moisture from her mouth. Such a contrast to his marred face. She hadn’t considered him handsome at first, even disregarding the scars. With every hour, his physical allure grew. Right now, she’d scorn a handsome man as banal. Idiot that she was, she’d discovered a taste for dark and dangerous and damaged.
Troubled, stirred beyond experience—and he’d hardly touched her—she wondered what had happened to the determined woman who’d arrived at Castle Craven to confront a monster. Only two days later and that woman hovered out of reach.
“Just one kiss, Sidonie. That’s the price of freedom.” He sounded sincere, not like the flirtatious devil whose bright silver eyes dared her.
Shock paralyzed her. It seemed too good to be true. She could depart with Roberta’s vowels, almost as innocent as she’d arrived. Except that along with astonishment and relief, she experienced a twinge of invidious, unacceptable, undeniable disappointment. “You’ll let me go back to Barstowe Hall?”
He scowled as he released her hand. “Are you mad? That wasn’t our bargain.”
“Oh, the bargain,” she repeated soundlessly.
“No skimping, mind. Genuine enthusiasm.”
One kiss seemed small price for escaping this room that bristled with promises of intimacy. “How do we measure your satisfaction?”
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