Wicked Intentions 1 (44 page)

She tilted her chin, feeling a thrill of excitement—she’d never before argued with a gentleman, let alone a strange one. “And I begin to think that any thought of righteousness has never crossed
your
shameless
little mind.”

He watched her a moment, a muscle twitching on his jaw. Then he bowed abruptly. “I thank you for going against your own inclinations and saving me from having to kill Lord Pimbroke.”

She nodded stiffly.

“And I hope most fervently that our paths never cross again, my Lady Perfect.”

Unaccountably, Hero felt a pang of hurt at his dismissive words, but she made sure not to let the weak emotion show. “I will certainly pray that I never have to suffer
your
presence again, my Lord Shameless.”

“Then we are in agreement.”

“Quite.”

For a moment, she stared at him, her breasts pressing against her stays with each too-fast breath, her cheeks hot with emotion. They’d drawn closer in the heat of their argument and his chest nearly brushed the lace of her bodice. He stared back, his eyes very green in his loathsome face. His gaze dropped to her mouth.

Her lips parted and for a moment she forgot to breathe.

He turned and strode to the door, disappearing into the dim hallway beyond.

Hero blinked and inhaled with a shudder as she looked dazedly around the room. There was a mirror hanging on the wall, and she crossed to it to peer at her reflection in the glass. Her hair was still elegantly coiffed, her dress properly in place. Her cheeks were a little pinkened, but the color was becoming. Strangely, she didn’t appear all that changed.

Well. That was good.

Nodding, she threw back her shoulders and swept from the room, her step graceful but quick. Tonight of all nights it was important she present a serene, lovely, and yes,
perfect
aspect. Hero tilted her chin at the remembered sneer of the stranger as he’d mouthed the word perfect. What could he possibly have against perfection anyway?