Oh, this wicked woman. Running her fingers over the shoulder of his suit, and running her eyes over his chest. She knew exactly what she was doing, and had set out on purpose to tease him. If he'd had any doubt to that effect, the look on her face as she looked over her shoulder when she walked away would have settled it immediately. The comment about her restraint being superior was a jab at their last meeting, he thought. He'd given up their game of cat-and-mouse first, leaning in to kiss her when their flirtations had reached their logical crescendo. Apparently she didn't intend to let him live it down, but he regretted nothing. How could he have regretted anything about that meeting when it had lead into one of the most enjoyable weekends he'd had all spring?

Emrys had half a mind to chase her down as she walked away and show her exactly how limited his restraint could be in a moment like this. The edge of the fountain would be enough of a seat for her to rest on while he buried his face beneath her skirt — but such indiscretion on the might see the hem of her dress wet (possibly in more ways than one) which would cause eyebrows to raise whenever they returned to the party. He couldn't indulge that particular urge, but neither could he let her teasing go without some return.

"Lamentations may be tedious, but hand-wringing can make for an interesting night," he said suggestively. "If you're the adventurous sort. Purely altruistic intention may not get you there."

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