As Maris simpered at the compliment he relieved his feelings by shoving rabbit, prune and bacon between his teeth. Never once in her too-short life had Luzena simpered. Nor could he imagine the young mage in Hahren’s antechamber simpering. No. He’d seen too much strength in her fine-boned face for that. Who was she? Who was she?

“Perhaps,” Maris said, slender fingers caressing the stem of her wineglass, “Lord Danfey would care to join us? At the house party, I mean. As it happens my mother’s cousin is an exceptional pother. I’m sure—”

“Maris,” he said, and lowered his hand. Try as he might, he could not smile this time. “It’s a kind thought, but I cannot entertain it. My father’s recovery is much slower than I would like. Subjecting him to a long journey, and then so much social excitement, well, I’m afraid that’s out of the question. But do extend my appreciation to your parents for the invitation.”

“The invitation is mine, Morgan.” There was now the hint of an edge to her playful voice. “As for your dear father, perhaps he should be permitted to accept or decline for himself.”

And now she far overstepped the mark. A curt reproof trembled on his tongue. But indulging it would not be wise. Everywhere he turned, it seemed, he was trammelled.

“Of course, Maris,” he said smoothly, the salty sweetness of the rabbit turned rancid. “And I shall be sure to mention it to him on the morrow. If I seem ungrateful, I apologise. Knowing my father’s health as I do, and knowing too how Pother Ranmer so jealously guards his patient’s frail condition, I simply leapt ahead to voice his most likely opinion. An opinion I am bound to respect, for my father’s sake.”

“Morgan…” Maris’s eyelashes fluttered. “Your loving loyalty quite steals my breath.”

And there she was, simpering again. It turned his stomach. She smiled, expecting a compliment in kind. If he disappointed her, if he spurned her, she might well slip from his grasp.

The truth was he didn’t want her… but he didn’t want to lose her, either.

Taking her left hand, he turned it over and caressed the soft inside of her wrist. Her warm, rapid pulse thundered against his fingertips.

“I think you’ll find, Maris, that I have many ways of stealing your breath.”

“Morgan!” She feigned shock, pulling her hand from his, but her cheeks were pink with pleasure. A discreet flick of her fingers kept the alerted companion in her seat. “How bold you are, sir.”

And what a hypocrite you are, my lady. Oh, Luzena. She’s so petty. So small, and obvious. How can I think of shackling myself to her… after you?

It was almost impossible to keep the thought from his face.