was disconcerting. Never had she experienced the like, but she was not
so green as to play ignorance at the cause.
She turned her face away, having no wish for her heated—and surely reddened—cheeks
to betray her thoughts. She knew what it was, this feeling. She had seen girls turn silly
over it, laughing and twittering behind their hands as a handsome youth swaggered past.
But she had never been prey to such herself. Until now. Mr. Fairfax had her blushing,
but he would not have her sighing like a lovesick girl.
"There is no intrusion, Mr. Fairfax." She knew she sounded breathless. She could only
hope that he attributed it to exertion.
"I believe this belongs to you," he said, and offered a small ecru linen reticule that she
knew well. "You left it behind in my carriage."
Oh, the sweet joy that flooded her at the sight.
"You have my gratitude, Mr. Fairfax. With a heavy heart, I discovered the bag's loss
this morning." She smiled at him, wanting to throw her arms about him and hug him for
this, for the return of the bag's contents, the gift for her mother. Realizing she had half
raised her hands to hug him in truth, she dropped them to her side, abashed.
He cast her a quizzical look, raising his straight, dark brows.
When he said nothing, merely looked at her in that intent way, as though he saw her
right to the very core, she felt the awkwardness of the moment with piercing intensity.
"You are most gallant, sir," she said in a rush.
"Yes, I am the quintessence of gallant," he muttered, his gaze dropping to her mouth
and lingering there. "Actually, I am not gallant at all." His tone grew warm, intimate, and
he asked with deliberate care, "Shall I name my reward?"
"Reward?" A little tremor shimmered through her.
Stepping close, so his legs brushed the folds of her skirt, he studied her with a half-
lidded look that made her heart race.
She had ascertained at their earliest meeting that Mr. Fairfax was an odd blend of
gentleman and … something else. Now, the way he looked at her, his gaze gone hard and
sharp, told her that the gentleman had gone into hiding.
Restlessness stirred inside her, something impatient and curious and eager. She could
not think that these feelings portended anything good. She ought to step back, step away,
perhaps even run away.
The scent of him carried to her, warm, a little musky, and … spicy. Like a dish she
would like to sample. Lovely, lovely smells that tickled her senses and made her wish for
more.
She held herself perfectly still, not daring to breathe, not trusting herself lest she
succumb to the urge to lean close and press her nose to his coat. To breathe deep and full
the scent of his skin.
Oh, what madness had taken hold of her?
With a soft sound, she stumbled back a step, searching for safety in physical distance,
but finding only confusion.
The part of her that craved order, solutions, answers, felt overwhelmed.
Reaching out, Mr. Fairfax lifted a stray curl from her shoulder, slid the length of the
HIS WICKED SINS
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strand slowly between his fingers. Her hair was pale and bright against his sun-bronzed
skin. She gasped, raised her gaze, found him watching her with a hooded look.
Beth recovered both her common sense and her voice then. She batted his hand away
and said with firm conviction, "I should be getting back. I do thank you for the return of
my property, Mr. Fairfax."
He smiled a little, a dark curving of his lips that made her shiver, and she thought he
would ask again for his reward.
She held up her hand, palm forward, forestalling him. "But though I have no desire to
disappoint you, I am afraid that my words of gratitude will have to suffice as your prize."
"That does disappoint me." He gave a low laugh, making her breath catch in her throat.
"But perhaps my reward will come at a future date. I am a patient man. Some things are
meant to be savored."
The words were innocuous, but his tone was low and
Christine Zolendz, Frankie Sutton, Okaycreations