Too Scandalous to Wed by Alexandra Benedict

thoughts about Henrietta, he wanted to throttle his brother all the more for pointing out the wretched truth.
    Still, Sebastian wouldn’t admit to the struggle inside him.
    “You’re wrong, Peter,” he said firmly. “I can be friends with Henrietta. I’m sure of it.”
    And he was.
    Really.
    Later that night, still unsettled by the conflicting sentiments inside him, Sebastian strolled through the quiet household on his way to his bedchamber.
    He fiddled with the ring on his finger, twisting it round and round, thinking of Henrietta.
    Five months ago, he had abandoned the chit, hoping she’d find herself another mate. Well, she’d not set her cap for another bloke, but she’d also not pestered him with adoring looks or flaunting gestures, either. Instead, she’d offered him friendship.
    Sebastian twisted his lips. He didn’t have very many friends. Oh, he’d many partners in debauchery, but none he’d consider friends. He’d certainly no female chums, so he didn’t know what to make of his newfound “friendship” with Henrietta.
    And where the devil had the whole idea of friendship come from anyway? Five months ago she’d wanted to snag him as her husband. Now shewanted to be his friend? Was he to assume she’d given up on the whole idea of being the next Viscountess Ravenswood? Or was the mischievous chit up to something?
    He’d no idea. And he couldn’t ask Henrietta outright. She’d only fib if it was a ploy of some kind. One thing was for certain, though. A friend was not supposed to stir the heat in your belly. Peter had been right about that.
    Disgruntled, Sebastian turned a corner, passing through an arched entranceway—and smacked right into Henrietta.
    Alarmed, he said, “Forgive me, Miss Ashby.”
    “Oh, bother that.” She rubbed her nose in the most delightful way. “It was an accident. Think nothing of it, Ravenswood.”
    “Did I hurt you?”
    She wrinkled her nose. “Not a’tall.”
    He cut her a dubious stare. That fragile feminine face crashing into his brute form had to sting, even a little. “You’ve not broken it, have you?”
    “Rot!” She sniffed. “I’m stronger than I look.”
    He had to admire her spirit. Most women would be reduced to tears right about now. Some might even demand reparation: a diamond necklace, for instance. But not Henrietta. He suspected she wouldn’t carp even if he’d injured her. And that only made her character all the more mystifying.
    “Where were you off to in such haste, Miss Ashby?”
    “I was looking for…”
    “For?”
    She looked straight at him. “I was looking for my sisters.”
    He quirked a brow. “It’s after midnight. Your sisters are likely in bed. Which is where you should be, Miss Ashby.”
    “You’re quite right.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll speak with my sisters in the morning. Good night, Ravenswood.”
    “Good night, Miss Ashby.”
    She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh dear.”
    “What is it?”
    She looked back at him, a bright blush dusting her cheeks. “I’m afraid we’re in a terrible fix.”
    Was the girl about to faint? Had she bumped into him a little harder than he’d thought?
    Sebastian reached for her elbow to steady her. “Miss Ashby, are you unwell?”
    “Oh, I’m quite well, but…”
    Her lashes flitted upward.
    Sebastian followed her gaze—and his heart shuddered at the sight of the mistletoe.
    Now where the hell had that come from? Prior to the Yule festivities, he’d made considerable effort to locate all the ghastly foliage in the house so he could avoid it. And that mistletoe had not been there before.
    “My lord, I do believe I owe you a kiss.”
    Blood throbbed in his veins at the sound of hersilky smooth voice. And when she started to chew on her bottom lip in that wanton fashion, blood started to pound in other less savory places, too.
    She could not kiss him. He was adamant. For eight years he’d stood fast to escape the girl’s kisses. He would not flounder