Good heavens!
The sly devil! Illicit talk was an attempt to unnerve her, to force her to mind her tongue. Perhaps Mr Sloane was unaware the women in the Highlands
spoke more freely than their English counterparts.
“You surprise me, sir.” Vivienne reached across to take toast from the rack. “Not that I know much on the subject, but I was told men who focus on pleasing their partner make the best lovers. Those who make demands are often found to be boring in the bedchamber.”
Mr Sloane almost choked on his coffee.
“Might you pass the strawberry jam when you’ve recovered?”
“I can assure you, Miss Hart,” he began but paused to cough into his fist, “women find me anything but a bore in bed.” He pushed the jam pot across the table as though moving his chess piece into an attack position.
The urge to tease him took command of her senses. “Well, they would hardly make the complaint directly. Perhaps you lack your grandfather’s adventurous spirit.” Before he replied, she said, “And as an agent of the Order, I thought you would approve of my costume. After all, do we not want to throw the masked devil off the scent?”
Mr Sloane seemed more concerned about the slight to his prowess than the need to focus on the case. “Trust me, there is nothing tiresome about the way I make love.”
“Make love? The words suggest a meaningful alliance, a deep connection.”
“Oh, I can do deep, Miss Hart.”
Heat crept up Vivienne’s neck and warmed her cheeks. Still, she was the granddaughter of the hero who had saved his drowning relative. She had to say something to make it sound as if she were not floundering out of her depth.
“And yet from you, it all sounds superficial. Besides, when it comes to daring, sir, I am the one who braved the storm. The one willing to risk everything to find our legacy. The one dressed in ridiculous clothes because our mission is too important to worry about appearances.”
Mr Sloane’s intense gaze drifted from her lips to her breasts, squashed into the foppish waistcoat. “Superficial? Are you not the one demanding to marry a stranger? Perhaps this boring-in-the-bedchamber routine is a means to have me seduce you, Miss Hart.”
“Ha! Are handsome men always so self-assured?”
“You think me handsome?”
“Undoubtedly.” Why lie? “Handsome and misguided. You’re the one who has been seduced, sir. Your head is spinning. You do not know what to make of me. You’re intrigued by my unconventional character, excited by the prospect of solving this case. The question is, how far will you go to seek answers?”
Mr Sloane’s slow smile pinned her to the seat. The simple movement of the man’s mouth caused a sudden pulsing at the apex of her thighs. How was he able to caress every inch of her body with nothing more than a sweeping gaze?
“You’re right, of course.” His buttery-smooth voice melted over her. “I am finding it difficult to determine your character. You possess the wicked mouth of a hellion, yet blush like a wallflower.”
When one’s life hung in the balance, one had to adapt. “There is nothing wicked about the truth. Perhaps you’re used to hearing falsehoods, having ladies pander to your whims. We haven’t time for misunderstandings.”
“Then let’s have nothing but honesty between us.”
Vivienne nodded. “Agreed. Is there something you wish to say?”
“Indeed.” He moistened his lips. The mere sight of his tongue made her stomach flip. “You’re a riddle, Miss Hart. You possess a man’s courage and a woman’s vulnerability. Logical comments follow illogical statements. Your mouth moves in a way I find annoying and alluring. I have nothing to prove, and yet I need to prove something to you. Why is that?”
From Mr Sloane’s mouth, the truth was like opium. It brought a wave of euphoria, a rush of confidence. She could become addicted to his compliments and flattery. Never had a man found her mouth alluring. Later, when her mind dulled, she would be plagued by the fact he found her annoying, and another dose of the truth would be the only remedy to banish the doubts.
“Perhaps you’ve never met a woman willing to hold you to account. If you wish to prove your skill in the bedchamber, know the only man I will bed is my husband.”
Mischief danced in his verdant eyes. “You may have a change of heart.” Arrogance dripped from every word. “We can discuss marriage and seduction during dinner this evening. But for now, we have a busy day ahead of us. Write a note to your lawyer and arrange for us to meet with him today. Buchanan will ride into town and deliver the missive.”
Being preoccupied with her lack of clothes this morning, she had not visited Buchanan or Mrs McCready. That said, Mrs McCready would have come to Vivienne’s bedchamber if she were well.
“You’ve spoken to Buchanan?”
“Yes, he’s taken a few stable hands to the site of the accident. He left a little after dawn and assured me he would have my carriage returned soon. He’s a competent fellow.” Mr Sloane poured coffee into her cup. “I presume you like the beverage.”
“Yes.”