Free A Duke's Wicked Kiss (Entangled Select) by Kathleen Bittner Roth Page B

an error I feel your plans to be. You do not know the rules of the game you are about to play.”
    “You are ill-mannered.”
    “Ah, now you’ve guessed my secret.”
    She shot him a scathing glare. “Do not think to get away with mocking me, sir. I believe you and I were in the same room when Mister Vámbéry indicated he would be close at hand should things run amok.”
    “I have no idea what Vámbéry’s idea of protection and chivalry might entail. After all, he is Hungarian.”
    “What is that supposed to mean?”
    He shrugged. “Attila the Hun—all that fierce and ignoble rot.”
    Her gaze skittered over his face and settled on his mouth. “Why, you jest.”
    He set his lips against a grin caused by her winsome ways—ways she most likely didn’t know she possessed. He gave her a teasing look. “And if I do?”
    She swept her tongue over her bottom lip.
    Did she even know she was staring at his lips and licking her own? A memory of her taste—sweet ripe cherries—swept across his tongue. He wondered how she’d react if he tried to kiss her. He shoved the dangerous thought aside.
    Her brow wrinkled. “This is no time to tease.”
    “Ah, but darling, perhaps it is. Perhaps this is not a time to be serious since even the suggestion of attending a royal wedding on Ravi Maurya’s arm is pure folly.”
    “Are you jealous of the man?”
    He stretched out his legs and settled more comfortably on the bench. “I don’t trust him. If this were a wager, the odds of him having pure intentions would run so low as to negate the ante.”
    Her gaze was at it again, flickering over him, pausing at the neckline of his open shirt, down his front, and over to his rolled sleeves. The pleasurable consideration of what her fingers might feel like running all over him rolled through him like warm brandy.
    When her eyes found his, her cheeks blossomed at being caught regarding him so blatantly. “You, sir, are not properly attired.”
    Boldly, he perused her pink finery. “And you are?” The conversation was entirely inappropriate, but he’d forgotten how enjoyable a lady’s company could be.
    Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, and then it was as if a light behind those fascinating eyes of hers came on, for the green in them brightened. A blush remained in her cheeks and she straightened measurably.
    “As a matter of fact, I am dressed properly. In case you’ve forgotten, I am a half-caste. I have a right to wear saris anytime I choose.” Her lips formed a small grin. “And my sister does not.”
    “Oh, and you simply cannot wait to inform her of your sudden revelation, can you?”
    Merriment danced in those glorious eyes of hers. “What of it?”
    “You two must have been quite the pair growing up. He paused for a brief moment to study her. “You mentioned I may have forgotten you are a half-caste. Were you referring to that day in your father’s stable when Marguerite informed me?”
    Without thinking, he reached out with the peacock feather and ran its fringes beneath her chin.
    She jerked her head away and slid farther from him. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”
    He laughed softly. “You said that very thing back then. At the time, though, I believe I had your chin tilted in order to inspect your pert nose. Besides, I didn’t touch you just now, the feather did.” God, would he love to run the thing all over her naked body. He fought leaning over and kissing her like he had that day ten years ago. He should leave. He really should.
    “I wouldn’t know. I don’t recall.”
    He could practically taste her. “Don’t lie to me, Suri. You and I both recollect that day very well.”
    “Why should I remember something so…so insignificant?”
    He said nothing for a long while as his mind floated about like dust motes in the sun, whirling around that day—around a kiss that had shaken his world. He’d wanted to take her to bed back then and, blast it, he still wanted to—only now,