Page 30 of The Lady Plays with Fire

“That’s rather a lot to ask in exchange for one kiss,” he growled. It was not a favor he was inclined to grant. Launching a new play to the world on opening night was nerve-racking enough. But to share it now, when it was not yet in its final form, to invite Julia, with her sharp eyes, to scrutinize its every weakness before he had had a chance to make his revisions? That hardly seemed wise.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” Her head tipped in a nod of concession, momentarily hiding her expression from him. A pause, long enough that he felt it might be safe to breathe again.

And then she said, “Name your price.”

He felt certain his heartbeat must be audible to her in the otherwise-silent room. It roared so loudly in his own ears, he could hardly think. People were curious about Blackadder’s plays, yes. They paid more for tickets than they ought. But this?

“I warn you, Miss Addison.” He tightened his arm, cinching their bodies more firmly together, part of him—but only part—hoping the embrace would push her away. “I’m a demanding lover.”

Once more, her chin jerked up. To his shock, his words did not seem to have made her more nervous. Only more intrigued. “Demanding?” she echoed, her eyes sparkling as they scanned his expression. He remembered suddenly what Mrs. Hayes had said about her companion’s desires. “I do hope that’s not just another word for selfish.”

A fresh bolt of lust shot through him. Julia was not the sort of woman one ought to regard as an object of flirtation, to say nothing of anything more scandalous. And yet, he was more than tempted to sweep an arm across the desktop, lay her across it, and have his way with her, here and now.

But he made do with kissing her again, his mouth moving across hers more languidly this time, though sparking no less fire. “I promise you’ll be satisfied,” he rashly vowed. “What say you?”

“I say you’d best be on your way to supper, before someone comes looking for you,” she answered, when he let her have her breath again. “I don’t relish the look on Lady Clearwater’s face if she catches us like this.”

He could picture the bitter disappointment in the scheming woman’s eyes. “I do.” Nevertheless, he let Julia go, watched as she smoothed her dress and tried to repair the havoc his careless fingers had wrought to her simple coiffure. “But that’s no’ what I was askin’.”

More Scots notes inevitably slipped into his speech when he allowed his restraint to unravel.

“When is the next rehearsal?”

“Next Friday at two o’clock.”

“I’ll meet you at the theater.” She held out her hand, in the manner of a someone striking a bargain. “We can settle on terms then.”

He took her hand in his but did not shake it. Slowly, he raised her fingers to his mouth, let her feel the heat of his breath across her knuckles, held her gaze as he turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the thin skin of her wrist, where he was pleased to find her pulse thrumming at least as rapidly as his own. “ ’Til next Friday, then,” he whispered before letting her go.

Then he strode toward the door, leaving not the way he had come, but heading deeper into the house. Supper and dancing would be even more interminable than he had foreseen.

But nothing compared to the days until he could see Julia again.

Chapter 10

Julia hadn’t the faintest notion how much time had elapsed between Lord Dunstane’s departure and the servant’s almost-inaudible scratch at the study door. She had found her way to a chair and taken a book from the shelf, though she hadn’t bothered to open it. The candle still sat on the far corner of the desk where he had shoved it, its flame too distant for her to read by—as if she could have concentrated on the printed page even if the light had been right beside her.

Name your price.

Her foolish words still seemed to echo about the room. What had she been thinking, allowing Lord Dunstane such liberties, offering . . . herself, in exchange for a mere peek at the play? She had intended to tempt him, it was true, to use his interest. But she had not considered how far she might have to go to get what she wanted.

And she had never imagined how tempted she might be to give him whatever he asked.

When she made no answer to the quiet knock, the door opened a few inches, and a parlor maid stuck her head into the room. “Mrs. Hayes is ready to leave.”

Julia rose. “Has her carriage been ordered?”

“Yes, miss.”

Heedless of the bookshelves’ general air of orderliness, she stuffed the unexamined volume in the first convenient space she saw, then blew out the candle with a huff and followed the girl downstairs.

In the high-ceilinged foyer, only Mrs. Hayes, Lady Clearwater, and a footman waited.

“Ah, there you are, my dear,” Mrs. Hayes called up to her when she was still half a flight of stairs away. “I didn’t see much use in our staying for the dancing.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Are you feeling any better, Miss Addison?” asked Lady Clearwater, scrutinizing every detail of Julia’s appearance. She did not look at all disappointed to see them go.