He tightened his jaw. Anton’s little sister.
Unfortunately, he had promised Anton he would keep a close eye on her whilst he enjoyed his far too long honeymoon touring Europe. Anton could have asked him to dance naked in Trafalgar Square and he would have done it. After all, he owed the man everything…
If only the naked dance had been on the cards. It would have been a darned sight easier than keeping Cassie under control. Cassie had an absent-minded and indulgent father, so Luke had no support.
“My earring,” she said abruptly. “I lost my earring.”
He eyed the green jewels dangling from her ears. “You have both.”
A slender hand darted to her ear and she smiled swiftly, letting loose a light laugh. “Oh so I do.” Her smile widened. “I could have sworn I felt it fall out.”
Lifting a brow, Luke folded his arms. It would be all too easy to let the wide smile work on him. He eased a breath through his nostrils and forced his attention away from her mouth. A tiny smattering of freckles ambled across her nose. He recalled how a few also scattered across the tops of her breasts and his traitorous gaze took the briefest of glances down.
Anton’s little bloody sister.
He should most certainly not have noticed there were freckles down there.
Swallowing, he fixed his gaze on her face. “That still does not explain why you came up here.”
“I needed some air.” She went to move past him. “But I feel just fine now so I think—”
He snatched her arm, his fingers curling easily around her slender limb.
She glanced at where his gloves wrapped around hers and furrowed her brow. “Luke,” she hissed. “You cannot touch me so.”
Oh he could. As a close family friend, he was trusted by the family. Few would think anything of him touching her in such an innocent fashion. As for them being alone, however…well that would be a different matter. He had his rakish reputation to consider—one that had been hard-earned over many years. If they were spotted alone like this, hand on her wrist or not, he’d condemn her forever.
“You could have taken some air in the garden,” he reminded her. “Or the drawing room. Or any other room for that matter. Birchlea House is hardly a hovel.”
Cassie cocked her head. “What does it matter to you where I catch my breath?”
“Anton told me to watch out for you. If you are getting into trouble...”
“Does this look like trouble?”
He released her arm and gestured to her long, elegant form. “Very much so.”
“Oh pooh.” She rubbed one of the marks on her gown. “It’s just a little dirt.”
“If you go downstairs looking like that...”
“Well, thank you, Luke. You do flatter me so.”
He rolled his eyes. “You are beautiful as always. But you shall draw notice and the last thing either of us wants is Anton to be worrying for you whilst he should be enjoying his honeymoon.”
Her shoulders dropped. “You are right.” She glanced around, her lips curving. “I shall sneak out through the servant’s quarters. I know there are stairs down to them at the end of this corridor.”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“You know, I have been here before, Luke.”
He narrowed his gaze at her. Something was going on. Though Birchlea house had hosted many a ball during the recent Season, he could not claim to know the layout of the house any more than the next man. Or woman. One hardly went traipsing through the upstairs quarters unless one was up to some sort of illicit liaison.
Not that he was immune to the draw of the occasional illicit liaison, but he preferred the privacy of the little townhouse he had set aside for such meetings.
But if Cassie intended to meet a member of the opposite sex here, he had a duty to put a stop to it. And not just because the thought of her in the arms of another man made his jaw tighten.
“Cassie, what are you up to? Really?”
“Not a thing.” She put a hand to the door. “And even if I was, it’s nothing to do with you, Luke. Anton is my brother. Not you. So you have no need to worry about me.”
Before he could argue further, she darted out of the room and shut the door behind her. He closed his eyes briefly in a bid to rid himself of the mental image of her, tall with long limbs and pert breasts, and golden curls.
He failed.