cool as moss. "I can only hope it will be the last."
Two opposing emotions warred within Paul. Relief … and sudden, irrational anger.
Not the first incident? Who was the bloody bastard who kissed her before me?
"Just in case, we'll have a physician examine your injury, Miss Sparkler," Nicholas said. "Are you able to ride? We've brought an extra mount."
"I'm ready to go," she said.
Taking the marquess' arm, Miss Sparkler departed without a backward glance.
EIGHT
The following afternoon, Percy returned to the guest bedchamber with her husband at her heels. One look from Gavin and her lady's maid scurried from the room. Peeling off her gloves and tossing them onto the vanity, Percy said excitedly, "Did you feel the undercurrents during tea?"
Gavin gave her a blank look. "What undercurrents?"
"You didn't notice anything out of the ordinary just now? No tension of any sort?"
"I suppose Miss Sparkler looked tense." Her spouse sat at the end of the bed, stretching his long legs in front of him. "But she's always wound tighter than a spool of thread."
"I wasn't talking about Charity—who, by the by, is not half as severe as you paint her. If I had to live under her father's tyranny, I'd be twice as tense."
"You've never done well with authority, buttercup." With obvious satisfaction, Gavin added, "Except mine, of course."
Percy decided to let him labor under the husbandly delusion.
"Charity can barely breathe without Mr. Sparkler's permission. He underestimates her dreadfully," she said with indignation. "And now he wants to force her into a loveless marriage!"
"Is that her opinion or yours?"
"Mine ... but it's the truth . Charity's blinded by her loyalty to her father. His word is gospel, and there's nothing I can say to convince her otherwise."
That didn't mean that Percy wouldn't try .
"Best not to meddle," Gavin advised.
"I'm not meddling. I just plan to,"—inspiration struck her—"fan the flames of latent passion." 'Twas an excellent phrase; she ought to jot it down for her next novel.
Her husband looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"You didn't notice the undeniable chemistry? The crackling, unspoken awareness between my brother and Charity?"
"Fines? And Miss Sparkler ?"
"Why is that so amusing?" Astonished, Percy watched as her husband's broad shoulders shook with laughter. "It would be an excellent match," she insisted. "Charity is exactly what my numskull of a brother needs—"
"A bridle may give a stallion direction, but he's not going to welcome it." Still chuckling, Gavin said, "Fines has no interest in your little friend. Trust me. If there's any fireworks going on, it's between him and one of those red-headed twins." Gavin snorted. "Or both of 'em. Randy cull, your brother."
Percy had to admit that the lascivious sisters had flirted shamelessly with Paul over supper last night. They'd batted their eyelashes and taken every opportunity to give him—and every other male present—an eyeful of their overblown charms.
Percy wrinkled her nose. "I suppose you would notice Lady Augusta and Louisa—"
The rest of her words were lost in a yelp as her husband yanked her onto his lap. His ore-flecked eyes gleamed into hers. "Notice, yes. Tawdry wares are hard to miss, especially when they're displayed for all and sundry." He nuzzled her ear, sending a familiar quiver up her spine. "But those high-kick tarts can't hold a candle to you."
"I'm not fishing for compliments," she said, looping her arms around his neck.
"You don't have to fish." With a wicked grin, he brought her bottom flush against his groin; even through the layers of their clothing, she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. "You've already landed the biggest one."
"Is this the kind that gets bigger with every telling?" she teased.
"Why don't you find out?"
He set her onto the mattress beside him. Capturing her hand, he brought it to the placket of his trousers. His rock-hard virility quickened her breath. She
Two opposing emotions warred within Paul. Relief … and sudden, irrational anger.
Not the first incident? Who was the bloody bastard who kissed her before me?
"Just in case, we'll have a physician examine your injury, Miss Sparkler," Nicholas said. "Are you able to ride? We've brought an extra mount."
"I'm ready to go," she said.
Taking the marquess' arm, Miss Sparkler departed without a backward glance.
EIGHT
The following afternoon, Percy returned to the guest bedchamber with her husband at her heels. One look from Gavin and her lady's maid scurried from the room. Peeling off her gloves and tossing them onto the vanity, Percy said excitedly, "Did you feel the undercurrents during tea?"
Gavin gave her a blank look. "What undercurrents?"
"You didn't notice anything out of the ordinary just now? No tension of any sort?"
"I suppose Miss Sparkler looked tense." Her spouse sat at the end of the bed, stretching his long legs in front of him. "But she's always wound tighter than a spool of thread."
"I wasn't talking about Charity—who, by the by, is not half as severe as you paint her. If I had to live under her father's tyranny, I'd be twice as tense."
"You've never done well with authority, buttercup." With obvious satisfaction, Gavin added, "Except mine, of course."
Percy decided to let him labor under the husbandly delusion.
"Charity can barely breathe without Mr. Sparkler's permission. He underestimates her dreadfully," she said with indignation. "And now he wants to force her into a loveless marriage!"
"Is that her opinion or yours?"
"Mine ... but it's the truth . Charity's blinded by her loyalty to her father. His word is gospel, and there's nothing I can say to convince her otherwise."
That didn't mean that Percy wouldn't try .
"Best not to meddle," Gavin advised.
"I'm not meddling. I just plan to,"—inspiration struck her—"fan the flames of latent passion." 'Twas an excellent phrase; she ought to jot it down for her next novel.
Her husband looked puzzled. "What are you talking about?"
"You didn't notice the undeniable chemistry? The crackling, unspoken awareness between my brother and Charity?"
"Fines? And Miss Sparkler ?"
"Why is that so amusing?" Astonished, Percy watched as her husband's broad shoulders shook with laughter. "It would be an excellent match," she insisted. "Charity is exactly what my numskull of a brother needs—"
"A bridle may give a stallion direction, but he's not going to welcome it." Still chuckling, Gavin said, "Fines has no interest in your little friend. Trust me. If there's any fireworks going on, it's between him and one of those red-headed twins." Gavin snorted. "Or both of 'em. Randy cull, your brother."
Percy had to admit that the lascivious sisters had flirted shamelessly with Paul over supper last night. They'd batted their eyelashes and taken every opportunity to give him—and every other male present—an eyeful of their overblown charms.
Percy wrinkled her nose. "I suppose you would notice Lady Augusta and Louisa—"
The rest of her words were lost in a yelp as her husband yanked her onto his lap. His ore-flecked eyes gleamed into hers. "Notice, yes. Tawdry wares are hard to miss, especially when they're displayed for all and sundry." He nuzzled her ear, sending a familiar quiver up her spine. "But those high-kick tarts can't hold a candle to you."
"I'm not fishing for compliments," she said, looping her arms around his neck.
"You don't have to fish." With a wicked grin, he brought her bottom flush against his groin; even through the layers of their clothing, she felt the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. "You've already landed the biggest one."
"Is this the kind that gets bigger with every telling?" she teased.
"Why don't you find out?"
He set her onto the mattress beside him. Capturing her hand, he brought it to the placket of his trousers. His rock-hard virility quickened her breath. She
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