“No pretend kisses?”
“No.”
“Even if necessary?”
“I doubt that will be a requirement for our employment.”
“And if it is?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’m sure women come easily to you, but a kiss from you, pretend or otherwise, will not make me one of them. You’re not my type.”
“Because I don’t make my living bilking people?”
“Because you think living within the law somehow makes you better than people like me.”
“I never said that.”
“Not in so many words, but you stink with it, frankly.” She looked him up and down. “That appears to be a very expensive suit you’re wearing, which makes me think you have some wealth, so save your charms and flattery for the sweet innocents you know back home, with their costly gowns and soft-soled slippers. I’ll not be craving you or your cock.”
He hadn’t noticed someone else joining them until a woman behind him said, “I see this is going well.”
“As well as could be expected,” Raven replied, eyes blazing.
The ferocious setdown would have shriveled the pride of some men. Brax wasn’t bothered. The tart-tongued warrior queen had returned. Her description of the ladies back home had been accurate, but none ever uttered the wordcock, at least not within his hearing. That she’d voiced it so easily made his own tighten and gave rise to erotic thoughts he did his best to ignore.
“Mr. Steele, this is my cousin Lacie Deveraux. Lace, meet Braxton Steele.”
She stepped into view. Her skin tone and hair were the color of a Spanish doubloon. Her eyes were green and her face was as beautiful as the rest of the Moreau women he’d encountered so far. “Pleased to meet you,” he said.
Lacie eyed him. “Same here. Mama was right about his handsomeness.”
“That’s not helpful,” Raven told her.
“Just stating fact. I was sent to get you two, so sheathe your swords and come on.”
Raven shot him one last disapproving glance before they followed the cousin back the way they’d come.