Free Too Wicked to Wed by Cara Elliott Page A

silk cost an arm and a leg,” he drawled. “But then, originality is not to everyone’s taste.”
    “Neither is your sense of humor.”
    Cameron exaggerated a sigh. “The two of you simply have no eye for fashion.”
    “You look like a bloody Barbary pirate,” growled Gryff.
    The other man fingered the large diamond stud in his left earlobe. “You don’t like my latest acquisition? Perhaps I ought to return it to its rightful owner.”
    “Dare I ask where you’ve been for the last sennight?”
    Cameron’s answer was a cocky smirk. “Just amusing myself.” He was deliberately vague about a great many things, and would often drop out of sight for days or weeks, returning just as suddenly with no explanation of where he had been. Or why. “Apparently my games were more profitable than yours.”
    Normally, Connor would have found the sharp exchange of banter diverting, but his patience was coming perilously close to snapping.
    Eyeing the clench of the earl’s fist, Gryff was quick to retort. “You won’t be finding things any too amusing in another moment unless you bite that devilishly sharp tongue of yours.”
    “Is it true, then? A lady now owns half of The Wolf’s Lair?” The glint of unholy amusement in Cameron’s green eyes darkened somewhat as Connor answered with a grim nod. “Good God, I leave you two alone for a few weeks and all hell breaks loose.” He wagged a finger at Gryff. “Naughty dog. One of these days, your taste for brandy is going to suck us all under.”
    “Don’t lecture me on the perils of drink,” barked the marquess.
    Dismissing the retort with a slight shrug, Cameron focused his attention on the dance floor. “Which one is the Lady of the Lair?”
    “Lady Alexa Hendrie has yet to make an appearance,” growled Connor. With any luck, she had come to her senses and scampered back to Yorkshire. However, as luck was proving damned elusive of late, he wasn’t counting on it.
    “Sebastian Hendrie’s sister?” Cameron’s gaze sharpened as the dancers spun by. “That certainly adds an intriguing twist to the affair,” he mused. “In Lisbon, Seb showed me some of her letters—she struck me as a very sensible, intelligent young lady.”
    “Ha! You might revise your opinion once you have met her.”
    “How—”
    Ignoring the question, Connor turned on his heel. “That’s enough jawing. Can the two of you stop snapping at each other’s flanks long enough to check around the refreshment tables while I make another turn of the room?”

    Alexa was aware of the earl’s presence before she looked around. A prickling sensation started at the back of her neck, teasing the tiny hairs to stand on end. A shivering tingle trilled down her spine, as if that piercing gray gaze was a finger of cold steel laid against her bare skin.
    It was frighteningly sensual…not that such a thing made any sense at all.
    But then, her wits seemed to be slowed by a jumble of conflicting sensations. Unlike her pulse, which had quickened considerably in the last few moments. She drew in a gulp of air, only to find that her breathing had gone rather ragged as well.
    Now was not the time for a flutter of schoolgirl nerves. She had been expecting the earl to seek her out, so there was no reason to feel…whatever it was that was turning her knees to the consistency of jelly. Not if she wished to impress upon him the fact that she was his equal, not just on paper but in worldly aplomb.
    “Lady Alexa.”
    Somehow, she managed not to jump out of her skin at the rumble of his voice.
    “Lord Killingworth.” She turned with deliberate slowness.
    He moved a step closer, the black of his evening clothes a stark contrast to the bouquets of creamy lilies and alabaster urns decorating the alcove. “If you are not too engrossed in the study of botany, might I request the pleasure of your company for the next dance.”
    There was no mistaking the mockery of his politeness, nor the fact that his words were more