Our Wicked Mistake by Emma Wildes Page B

and he had even admitted he wanted her.
    He didn’t move, and his eyes held a singular glitter. “There is no us , darling Madge.”
    “Have you forgotten that night?” Acutely aware of the attendants at the carriages lining the street and possible curious eyes from inside the house, she didn’t touch him—though she wanted to—but her voice dropped to a husky murmur. “I haven’t.”
    “A mistake,” he said shortly, but he still didn’t walk away.
    “ Our mistake, then.” Madeline smiled. It was a vixen’s smile, her best attempt to sway him, for though he still seemed impervious, she could sense an inner battle. “Shall we,” she said delicately, softly, “discuss our mutual imprudence elsewhere? Like my bedroom?”
    Maybe it was the considerable amount of claret, or maybe it was simply male capitulation to an offer of erotic carte blanche, but Luke swore under his breath—an oath she didn’t quite catch, though a shocking word or two came through.
    Yet the look in his eyes took on a searing heat.
    Exactly what she wanted.
    “That you followed me outside will be all over London by dawn,” he told her, but he’d already lifted his hand to her driver to summon the carriage. Since they were the focus of all curious eyes, he was instantly obeyed.
    A daunting thought, but she believed she was prepared for the whispers behind gloved hands. He was right, of course. Her abrupt departure in his wake would be noted, and she was sure their conversation on the street before the Masterses’ fashionable town house also would draw both comment and interest.
    “Rather like your reckless wager. I didn’t think notoriety bothered you,” she pointed out dryly. For the past year she’d thought about him every single day, and if this was what it took . . .
    Then so be it.
    “It doesn’t,” he admitted, “which is exactly my point. And you know my stand on the issue of permanence.” One elegant brow arched upward. “I am considering your reputation, not mine. Still wish to continue this discussion in your boudoir, Lady Brewer? Think of the risks.”
    This was where she could point out that she knew his stand on the issue of permanence with her , because he’d stated quite plainly he intended to marry eventually. But Madeline didn’t want him to examine the topic at length at the moment and change his mind. To that challenge, she said simply, “Yes.”
    “If I’m considering this it’s because I’ve had too much wine.” His voice was restive and edgy.
    “Not too much, I hope.” Her voice was arch with amusement as the carriage rattled up and her young driver jumped from the seat to open the door for her.
    Was this her? Playing the pursuer, inviting a man into her bedroom?
    “Don’t worry. That isn’t what I meant.” Luke waved the driver off and did it himself, handing her into the vehicle and pausing for so long a moment in the open door as she settled on the seat that she thought he might at the last moment change his mind. His gaze held hers. “I’m tempted,” he said softly. “Damn you.”
    “I want you tempted,” she replied, her voice just as quiet.
    “You’re too beautiful.” The words were more an accusation than a compliment. He stood there, not shutting the door of the carriage, his tall form shadowy.
    Yes, if anyone was watching them, there would be talk.
    “According to popular opinion among the female populace, so are you.”
    His smile was faint. “How flattering.”
    Like he wasn’t aware of it. She said tartly, “The pointed advances of Lady Hart in front of all society come to mind as proof.”
    “Is it now my turn to ask if you are jealous?” The amusement in his voice was unmistakable.
    Yes. But she refused to say it. The only way this would work was if she matched his detached sophistication. “I noticed,” she murmured. “I am sure that admission will sufficiently add to your arrogance.”
    “You’re certain?” His voice was suddenly hushed, and there was no