A Little Mischief by Amelia Grey

moment, and the only things she heard were night sounds and Lord Colebrooke’s erratic breathing.
    There were many things she wanted to say, but she had to let him speak first.
    “He’s gone,” Lord Colebrooke said flatly. “Throckmorten’s body is not here.”

Seven
    “Gone?” Miss Winslowe said to Daniel. “How about he was never here?”
    “What are you saying?” he asked, but didn’t give her time to answer before he continued. “That’s insane. You were here. You saw him.”
    “Yes,” she said calmly. “But remember that’s what you said to me when he disappeared out of my garden earlier this afternoon.”
    “Will you forget about that?” Daniel said, exasperated, perplexed by this entire day. “Throckmorten wasn’t dead when he was in your garden.”
    Daniel searched the darkened ground all around him. Throckmorten was here. What the bloody hell could have happened to him?
    This was preposterous. Throckmorten had to be here somewhere. Daniel paced back and forth across the short space of grass. He looked near the hedge and around the bushes. It was just too damn difficult to see anything in the gloomy mist.
    “Where the hell is he?” Daniel muttered aloud as he made his way back to where Miss Winslowe stood waiting.
    “Dead men don’t get up and walk away, Lord Colebrooke,” she said with all the calm of a windless afternoon.
    “I know that. Someone must have stolen the body while we were talking to Stonehurst.”
    Miss Winslowe laughed. A soft, seductive, playful sound that touched Daniel deep in his soul, and his lower body came to life. How could she excite him at a time like this? What kind of hold did she have on him? A dead man was missing, and he had thoughts of seducing this woman on his mind.
    It was too misty to see her as clearly as he would have liked, but he saw enough to be enraptured by her loveliness. He was sane enough to know he had to fight the pull she had on him. His life had been nothing but trouble since she came into it. He moved closer so he could see more of her face in laughter.
    He stopped just inches from her and lowered his voice as he said, “I fail to see the humor in the situation we are in, Miss Winslowe.”
    “Oh, really?”
    Must she always challenge him? She was intoxicating. “Yes,” he answered.
    “Think back to this afternoon, my lord. You are saying the exact things that I said to you when I tried to make you believe that Mr. Throckmorten was in my garden. Dead.”
    There was a sudden break in the clouds, and faint moonlight brightened her face. Daniel saw her sparkling eyes filled with satisfaction and her beautifully soft skin that glistened in the pale glow from the moon. Her lips were moist, pink, and tempting. She looked so kissable he suddenly found it difficult to keep his mind on the problem at hand.
    He swallowed the desire that rose up in him and threatened to overpower him. “That was different,” he said, forcing his voice to remain firm but low.
    “Oh, really, sir? In what way is it different? I fail to see any.”
    She smiled at him and his lower body tightened again. She was beautiful. How could he be so physically attracted to her when she challenged everything he said and played mischievous games that caused harm to others? She was not the kind of young lady he expected to desire so hotly that he ached to touch her.
    “You said he had received a bump on the head. I saw a knife embedded in his chest.”
    “That’s not proof he was dead.”
    “I know a dead man when I see one, Miss Winslowe, and Boswell Throckmorten was dead.”
    “How many dead men have you seen, Lord Colebrooke?”
    Daniel opened his mouth to speak but stopped. He felt an unwelcome smile spreading across his face. Damnation, she was right. They were saying the exact things to each other that were said this afternoon, only their roles had been reversed.
    He’d ridiculed her much the same way several hours ago. It rankled that she was right, but it didn’t