He was, after all, a man with a pulse.
Clearing his head, he searched for a safe topic. Seized upon it. “Where is your sister?”
She stepped closer, her deep cerulean skirts now brushing against his legs. Not that he felt them. Not that he ached for them. “She left the moment we arrived. Argued with Mr. Fetu, gained entrance to the main room, and left to the stage, muttering something about entertainment.”
“She should not have brought you.”
“Are you afraid I shall be ruined?”
“Someone should be.”
She tilted her head. “Hasn’t Sera told you that my sisters and I are ruined before we begin? We are the Dangerous Daughters. The Soiled S’s. Interestingly, we are so ruined that we cannot shock Society. We can run from our husbands. Toss dukes into fishponds. Horserace. Hie off to Scotland in carriages with men we do not know. And all we do is prove the world’s point. One of my sisters is a duchess. Another a marchioness. Another a countess. And the last richer than the other three combined. Ruin has served us quite well.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Not you, though.”
Something flickered in those eyes, blue as the shimmering fabric of her dress. Something that he would have called sadness if he were willing to pay attention. Which he wasn’t.
“No, not me. But perhaps I simply haven’t given it everything I have.”
And then she laid hands on him, one palm high on his chest, flat against the buttoned linen vest he wore over shirtsleeves when he worked. The touch was like fire. He reached for that criminal, glorious hand, certain he was going to lift it from his person. She was a flirt—the worst kind—the kind that made a man want to sit up and beg.
He didn’t move the hand. Instead, he pressed it tighter to him.
Those blue eyes captured his. “Your heart is pounding, American.”
“Incidental,” he said. “I thought I made it clear that I am not for toying.”
“Tell me why, and I shall allow it.”
He couldn’t help a little laugh at that allow. As though the entire world bent to her whim. As though she and her kind ruled it like queens. And perhaps they did. “Because I’ve vowed off women like you.”
Her voice went soft and smooth. “Women like me?”
“The dangerous kind.” Was he leaning down to her?
“Is that not all of us?” Perhaps she was stretching up to him.
“Lord knows it’s most of you.” She was right there, lips parted like a promise. Like a secret.
“You seem a man who likes a bit of danger.” The words were a breath against his skin, that hand sliding up to his shoulder, to his neck. He fisted his hands at his sides.
“Not the kind that lands me married.”
She watched him, beautiful defiance in her eyes. “I never said I wanted to marry you.”
He deserved a damn medal for not kissing her then. For not accepting the tacit offer she voiced—the kiss. The touch. And whatever else Sesily Talbot, the most dangerous of the Dangerous Daughters, wanted.
He deserved to have President Jackson walk into the damn room and present him with a cabinet post. He deserved to be knighted by the damn king. Riches and power beyond his dreams. All of it. Because, surely, stepping away from her was the single noblest act anyone had ever performed. Arthurian in scope.
Made even nobler when he said, “Go home to your cat, kitten.”
Sesily’s lips flattened in something like disappointment, and then she sighed. “My cat is still at Highley.”
“Why? Decided you did not require a feral sidekick?”
She replied, dry as sand. “Brummell went into hiding after you skulked off.”
“I didn’t skulk.”
She ignored him. “He longed for his American scratching post.”
He scowled. “Perhaps you should go fetch him, then. I don’t much care what you do, frankly, as long as you find yourself another tree up which to bark.”
“Your skill at mixing metaphors truly is unparalleled,” she said.
“Seems a good enough reason to find yourself another man with whom to toy, Sesily,” he said, steeling his tone. “I am not green enough to be tempted into the game.”
He’d made her angry, if the color that flooded her cheeks was any indication. But before she could reply, the air changed. From what seemed like an immense distance, in the room beyond, quiet fell, soft and heavy with anticipation.
Sesily looked to the door, hearing the silence. “What’s happening?”
“Your sister is about to sing.”
She turned to him. “I’m not leaving without hearing her.”
“Stay if you like,” he said, affecting disinterest. Hoping for it. “But don’t expect me to stay with you.”
She lifted one brow and straightened her shoulders. “And so I was right.”
“You were wrong. I am not another man to be ensorcelled by you.” Perhaps if he said it, she would believe it. Perhaps he would.
She did not. Indeed, she seemed utterly unmoved by the words. By the insult he’d intended in them. Instead of turning tail and making an exit, she smiled, bold as ever. “No, Caleb, I was right. You are a coward. Unwilling to see the truth.”
She’d said the words before. In the country. He didn’t have to ask her to clarify, as they remained etched in his memory.
How good it would be.
He shook his head. “Go home, little girl, before you get yourself in trouble.”
She watched him for long enough to unsettle him before she smirked. “I don’t think I am in any danger of getting into trouble, American.”
“The world shall think I’ve ruined you if you’re not careful.”
“And they shan’t think it at all if you are careful.”
He hated the way he responded to her bold brashness. To her words, so shocking and so damn welcome. He hadn’t felt this way—this awake, this on fire, this hard—in years. Attempting to ignore all that, he spoke, steeling his voice. “What do you want, Sesily? I must return to the tavern.”
“I want you to kiss me.”
He shook his head. “No.”
She moved toward him. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t kiss girls.”
“As I’ve told you, I’m not a girl.”
He clung to the emotion, hoping to push her away—far enough that she’d never return. “But you’re young and spoiled, aren’t you? Always have been.”
“Then I should get what I wish, no?”
“I’m not interested.”
“In spoiling me?”
“In kissing you.”
The words landed and stung. He saw it in her beautiful blue eyes for a barely-there moment before she shuttered the emotion and nodded. “Then I shall find someone else.”
“To spoil you? That’s an excellent plan.” He didn’t care. She wasn’t his problem.
She turned without a word and headed for the door, opening it and turning back before she replied. “No. To kiss me.” She was into the throngs of people beyond before he could catch her.
He stared after her for a stretch of time, long after she’d disappeared into the crowd. She was safe, and not his concern.
She wouldn’t leave without Sera. Indeed, she’d probably make her way behind the stage to find her. She was safe, and not his concern.