No. He wasn’t going to kiss her. That way lay madness. It did not matter the feel of her bottom or the swell of her breasts or the way her lips curved like promise or the fact that she’d never met a scandal she didn’t like.
It mattered that she was sister to his business partner and the closest thing he had to a friend. It mattered that she was an English lady. That she was daughter to an earl. Sister-in-law to four of the richest men in Britain, three of whom held venerable titles.
It mattered that she was a goddamn hurricane.
Hang on … unfortunately?
“What circumstances?”
The animal in the labyrinth cursed, angry and pained. Caleb made to look, but she was there, her fingers at the curve of his jaw, tilting him back to her.
She was right there. A breath away.
Shit. He wasn’t going to kiss her.
He was almost sure of it.
And he didn’t. She kissed him first.
But then it didn’t matter who’d kissed whom, because the only thing that mattered was Sesily’s full, soft lips on his, hot and sweet and perfect, and how was he to deny himself? She was right there, in his arms like a gift that he did not deserve. A gift he could not accept.
But he wasn’t a fool. He’d open it. Look at it. Taste it.
Just for a moment.
And then he’d do what was right.
Her lips softened, opening on a little sigh, and he did taste then, his tongue sliding against hers as she pressed herself closer. She was delicious. The sounds of her. The sight of her. The feel of her. And he didn’t want to stop, because he could not remember the last time that he’d felt like this.
Like everything was right.
Of course, nothing was right.
“Oy!”
She broke the kiss at the sound, loud and affronted and near enough to distract Caleb from his newfound goal—to kiss Sesily Talbot again. Immediately. But in order to do that, he required solitude, which meant responding to the man who’d stumbled out of the labyrinth, hand to his head as though he had a banger of a headache.
Before he could turn his head, Sesily whispered, “Don’t give him any reason to stop.”
She didn’t want to be seen.
Curiosity flared, but he knew better than to press her. Instead, he pulled her tight against him, turning just enough to ensure she was hidden in the shadows. “What happened?”
She shook her head.
Whatever it was, she needed his help.
“Alright,” he whispered, looking over the top of her head at the man headed back to the ballroom.
“Is that you, Calhoun?” the man slurred. “I thought you’d decided to stay on your side of the pond. Bad luck for us, I suppose.” Lewdness slid into the snide words. “Does that girl’s family know she’s climbed down into the American muck?”
Caleb turned to stone, recognition flaring.
Jared, Earl of Totting, was a bastard through and through. Rich and entitled, with enough size behind him to make him dangerous when he chose to terrorize. And he did. He’d been banned from Caleb’s tavern almost as soon as they’d opened for business; the earl was the kind of man who never left a pub without starting a brawl, and that was on his good nights. His bad ones were why half the brothels in Covent Garden wouldn’t see him through the door.
And Sesily had been in the maze with him.
Caleb didn’t like that. In fact, he was about to show this rich, entitled horse’s ass just how little he liked it.
Sesily’s fingers tightened on his forearm, now steeled for battle. “Caleb,” she whispered, his name soft as silk on her lips. “Please.”
He might not have listened.
He might have ignored the plea and the warning, and allowed his misguided sense of honor to put the bastard into the ground. But at that precise moment, the earl stepped from darkness into the pool of golden light that spilled from the wall of windows that lined the outer edge of the Trevescan ballroom … giving Caleb a clear look at his face.
And the proof that whatever he could do to Totting was nothing compared to what Sesily had done.
Caleb looked down at her, careful not to let his shock into his eyes.
“Please,” she said, her fingers tight like a vise on him. The word barely sound. He heard the rest like she’d shouted it. Don’t say anything.
He couldn’t quite agree to that bit. Instead, he offered the earl his broadest American devil-absolutely-don’t-care grin, and said, “Enjoy your evening, Totting.”
The earl told him exactly what he thought Caleb could do with the pleasantry, and listed his way back toward the ballroom.
Once the man was out of earshot, Caleb leaned down, close enough to feel the heat of her. To delight in the scent of her—like sugared almonds. But he wasn’t about to dwell on either of those things.
He was too busy being shocked. “You’re going to tell me everything,” he whispered, low in her ear. “As payment for keeping your secret.”
She turned to face him, the warm golden light diffused to silver on her face. “I think we both know that’s not going to happen,” she said. “Besides, I let you kiss me, and that should be payment enough …”
“You kissed me.”
She gave him a little half smile. “Are you sure?”
“Sesily, what in hell are you up to?”
She was back to playing games. “What makes you think I had anything to do with it?”
“Because you’re rich and beautiful, with the freedom that comes with both of those.”
“You think I’m beautiful?” she asked, as though everything was perfectly normal.
“I think you’re fucking fearless, which makes you incredibly dangerous.”
She peered around him, watching as the unsuspecting earl climbed the steps to return to the ballroom. “Dangerous to whom?” she asked, casually, as though they were anywhere but here.
To me. Caleb swallowed the response. “To yourself.”
She cut him a quick look, then returned her attention to the earl. “Nonsense. I did exactly what any good girl should do when she gets herself into trouble.”
“And what’s that?”
She smiled. “I found a proper hero to protect me.”
She wasn’t just dangerous. She fairly guaranteed his demise. “Christ, Sesily. You think he won’t come looking for you when he—”
“He won’t remember anything about the last seventeen minutes,” she whispered, waving a hand to silence him. “Look.”
Her face was turned fully to the ballroom now, her pure, unabashed excitement undeniable in the candlelight.
“It’s happening,” she said, quietly, as Caleb followed her gaze as Totting pushed back into the crush of people. “Watch.”
Within seconds, fans began fluttering, attention turning to Totting from all over the room. Then the whispers started—heads bowed in serious conversation around the room. And then … the laughter.
The pointing.
The evisceration.
And Totting, the arrogant sot, had no idea that the attention was directed toward him. He was so confused that he even turned around at one point, seeking the person who was surely behind him.
That’s when Caleb saw Sesily’s work in full, glorious, horrifying light.
There, across the earl’s broad forehead, in dark, indelible ink, the lettering impeccable, was a single word.