Her rules. Mmhm — the same rules that allowed for inappropriate, expensive gifts, lines of poetry, and evocative descriptions of her wardrobe. The same rules that allowed for a dress like that while she was alone in the home of a gentleman she'd only met a month ago, and only once. Emrys thought he ought to have no trouble at all playing by those rules. And now she'd set her glass down right next to his hand, and he could feel her eyes on him — yes, he could play this game.

"And what would it take to move beyond intrigued?" he asked, taking half a step towards her. He was far too close to her now, but his eyes were not on her face or her body but rather on her hand on the sideboard. Given this, it was conceivable that he might not have noticed how much he'd intruded on her personal space. Conceivable, but they would both know better.

Moving deliberately yet fluidly, he closed the distance between their hands and trailed one fingertip along the exposed skin of her wrist. "A matching bracelet, perhaps?" he suggested softly. Turning his attention towards her face, he let his hand leave hers and reached up to trail his fingertips along the air just above her neck. Not touching her, not quite, but he could feel her beneath his fingertips all the same, the tension sparking between them like electric arcs. He was close enough that he could have kissed her without moving, but he didn't — not yet. "Or a necklace?"