Miss Lavigne's Little White Lie by Samantha Grace

ruffled psyche.
    “Did you wish to see me about something specific?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t been mistaken about her purpose in visiting his quarters.
    “You seemed saddened by tonight’s reading, more so than I would have expected.”
    She waited for his response, offering him a chance at redemption, but she couldn’t give him absolution. Only Cecily could release him from his guilt, and that could never happen.
    Daniel forced a grin. “As noted, Shakespeare isn’t my cup of tea. Neither is poetry.”
    “With the exception of bawdy prose,” she amended, a wry smile on her inviting lips.
    He laughed. It was a true sound of merriment, for Lisette had a way of unearthing happiness he’d thought abandoned him long ago.
    Her expression turned serious again. “I sense something is troubling you.”
    “You’re mistaken, luv. How could I be anything but content with a beautiful lady in my arms?”
    With narrowed eyes, she shifted on his lap to face him, her bottom making contact with his growing erection.
    He grunted and readjusted her position. “Take care not to wiggle so much, Lis.”
    She frowned, indicating her patience was nearing an end. “I could move to the window seat to preserve your comfort.”
    He held her in place when she tried to climb from his lap. “Stay put. I like you where you are.”
    Her eyes flared and she clamped her mouth closed as if fighting the urge to take off his head. Her fire heated his blood.
    “You’re too surly by half this evening,” she snipped. “Tell me what’s stuck in your craw, and stop treating me like an imbecile. Something is bothering you. And don’t blame Shakespeare for your ill temper.”
    She was an insistent young woman but no match for him. He had been evading his troubles for too long. He reached to delve his fingers into her silky hair, but she batted away his hand.
    “Now who’s surly, madame?”
    “I’m unappreciative of your dismissive manner. If you don’t wish to speak of your troubles, do me the honor of saying as much rather than behaving as if I haven’t spoken.”
    “Very well. I don’t wish to speak of anything but you.”
    Her chest rose and fell with an exasperated sigh. Regret settled over him, leaden and oppressive. Sometimes he would like to unburden himself, but shifting the load to Lisette’s shoulders wasn’t an option. She was his to protect and had been since that moment in The Abyss when he’d chosen to intervene on her behalf.
    Besides, ladies possessed delicate sensibilities. He would likely wind up comforting her instead of the other way around. Best to distract her.
    “If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke—Aye, what then?”
    He nuzzled her neck, but she pushed back and held him at arm’s length. A line formed between her brows. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I’m reciting Coleridge.” He returned to nibbling her soft skin, but she shoved away again.
    “Why?”
    He dropped his head back against the chair. “I’m attempting to seduce you, my dear, to make you putty in my hands.”
    Her brows shot up and she laughed, a joyous sound that wafted into the air, rising high before raining warmth over him. “Is that how it’s done, monsieur? Perhaps you would reap better rewards with a bawdy rhyme.”
    “I see. Very well then. There once was a gentleman from Dover, who liked to—”
    “No!” Her hand shot out to cover his mouth. “I don’t want to hear—I was teasing .”
    “So was I.” Her glove muffled his laugh.
    The spark of amusement in her eyes faded, and her hand dropped away from his mouth. “Do you want to kiss me?”
    His heart startled before taking off at a gallop and sending desire flooding through his veins. “I want to do more than kiss you, Lis.”
    “ Oui , I know.” She lowered her eyes. “You have been more than patient with me, but I