rose and went to pour himself a dram of brandy. He didn’t usually drink this early in the day, but under the circumstances…
He stood there sipping brandy as he contemplated this new idea. Of course, Knighton would raise holy hell, especially once he learned that Sebastian was her kidnapper. And if Knighton forbade it, he suspected her father would, too. Still, Juliet was a grown woman—nearly the age of consent—and there was always Gretna Green.
He rolled his eyes. As if she’d ever run off with a man again, even “Morgan’s” wealthy, titled brother. “Morgan’s” respectable, boring brother.
The only way it would work was if he kept the truth from her until after the wedding. That didn’t give him much time. And it meant he’d have to woo her as his real self instead of as Morgan, the “reckless adventurer” she’d once cared for.
But it was an excellent solution—tempt her into marriage before Knighton caught on. By the time Sebastian had to reveal the truth, he might have succeeded in defusing the situation entirely.
He downed the rest of the brandy. How difficult could it be? He already had Lady Rosalind as an ally. He’d won Juliet once as Morgan—why not do it as Sebastian, too?
All right, he thought testily, so she didn’t seem to find Sebastian that exciting. But he could change all that. He was sure of it.
A rustling of satin at his doorway made him look up, just in time to see Lady Juliet stalk purposefully into his office. He hid a smile. If she only knew what he’d been thinking…
“Do come in, my lady,” he quipped as she approached. The dimness of his study muted the golden girl’s hair, yet still she glowed as lovely and fresh as a newly opened jonquil. Yes, she’d make him a good wife indeed.
Tamping down on his premature excitement, he poured himself another dram, took his glass to his desk, and satdown. “What do you want from me now?” He added on impulse, “Further demonstrations of your…lack of experience in certain matters?”
She eyed him askance. “Do not speak to me as if I were some idiot child.”
“I didn’t realize I was.”
“I’m not the naive ninny I was when I ran away with your brother.”
No, you certainly aren’t, he thought, if you ever were.
“And although my family may insist on treating me as if I’m witless and utterly incapable of knowing my own mind, I won’t stand for your doing so.”
“All right.”
The evenness of his tone and his solemn agreement seemed to take her aback. Eyes the color of sherry fixed on him. “I have a proposition to put to you.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Let me guess—you want me to stay away from you while you’re stuck here.”
“No.”
“You want me to court you while you’re stuck here.”
“Certainly not!”
But she blushed, and that gave him pause. Perhaps his kisses hadn’t been so very dull, after all.
Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his finger around the rim of his brandy glass. This was blasted intriguing, and he was actually enjoying himself. “I’m merely repeating the two propositions your brother-in-law and sister put to me separately this morning.”
Her blush deepened to the dark red of anger. “Griff and Rosalind talked to you about me ?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, that is so like them. Meddlers, both of them.”
“I quite agree.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, if you don’t want me to stay away from you, yet you don’t want me anywhere near you—”
“I didn’t say that. I merely said I don’t want you to court me. There’s a vast difference between the two—you could still be near me without courting me.”
He lifted his glass and sipped, feeling less than gentlemanly as he pondered that idea. His gaze drifted to her rosy lips. “Indeed, I could.”
“And it’s not what you’re thinking, either,” she protested hotly.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I have a fairly accurate idea.”
He didn’t even pretend to
He stood there sipping brandy as he contemplated this new idea. Of course, Knighton would raise holy hell, especially once he learned that Sebastian was her kidnapper. And if Knighton forbade it, he suspected her father would, too. Still, Juliet was a grown woman—nearly the age of consent—and there was always Gretna Green.
He rolled his eyes. As if she’d ever run off with a man again, even “Morgan’s” wealthy, titled brother. “Morgan’s” respectable, boring brother.
The only way it would work was if he kept the truth from her until after the wedding. That didn’t give him much time. And it meant he’d have to woo her as his real self instead of as Morgan, the “reckless adventurer” she’d once cared for.
But it was an excellent solution—tempt her into marriage before Knighton caught on. By the time Sebastian had to reveal the truth, he might have succeeded in defusing the situation entirely.
He downed the rest of the brandy. How difficult could it be? He already had Lady Rosalind as an ally. He’d won Juliet once as Morgan—why not do it as Sebastian, too?
All right, he thought testily, so she didn’t seem to find Sebastian that exciting. But he could change all that. He was sure of it.
A rustling of satin at his doorway made him look up, just in time to see Lady Juliet stalk purposefully into his office. He hid a smile. If she only knew what he’d been thinking…
“Do come in, my lady,” he quipped as she approached. The dimness of his study muted the golden girl’s hair, yet still she glowed as lovely and fresh as a newly opened jonquil. Yes, she’d make him a good wife indeed.
Tamping down on his premature excitement, he poured himself another dram, took his glass to his desk, and satdown. “What do you want from me now?” He added on impulse, “Further demonstrations of your…lack of experience in certain matters?”
She eyed him askance. “Do not speak to me as if I were some idiot child.”
“I didn’t realize I was.”
“I’m not the naive ninny I was when I ran away with your brother.”
No, you certainly aren’t, he thought, if you ever were.
“And although my family may insist on treating me as if I’m witless and utterly incapable of knowing my own mind, I won’t stand for your doing so.”
“All right.”
The evenness of his tone and his solemn agreement seemed to take her aback. Eyes the color of sherry fixed on him. “I have a proposition to put to you.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Let me guess—you want me to stay away from you while you’re stuck here.”
“No.”
“You want me to court you while you’re stuck here.”
“Certainly not!”
But she blushed, and that gave him pause. Perhaps his kisses hadn’t been so very dull, after all.
Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his finger around the rim of his brandy glass. This was blasted intriguing, and he was actually enjoying himself. “I’m merely repeating the two propositions your brother-in-law and sister put to me separately this morning.”
Her blush deepened to the dark red of anger. “Griff and Rosalind talked to you about me ?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, that is so like them. Meddlers, both of them.”
“I quite agree.” He leaned forward. “Tell me, if you don’t want me to stay away from you, yet you don’t want me anywhere near you—”
“I didn’t say that. I merely said I don’t want you to court me. There’s a vast difference between the two—you could still be near me without courting me.”
He lifted his glass and sipped, feeling less than gentlemanly as he pondered that idea. His gaze drifted to her rosy lips. “Indeed, I could.”
“And it’s not what you’re thinking, either,” she protested hotly.
“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“I have a fairly accurate idea.”
He didn’t even pretend to
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