She tipped her head up and he moved nearer still, certainly close enough to kiss her if he chose to. He was tempted; but there was the matter of her riding hat, and the blood on his face, and the problem of stopping once they started.
And someone was certain to notice the young hostess’ absence if it was too prolonged, once the rest of the party had gone tramping back. Not that Yassine cared, particularly, for her sake: where the women he usually dallied with were one thing, getting involved with this sort – young ladies with family, reputation, money – might well, if he misjudged a move, ruin him as much as he could ruin her.
He had no intention of being trapped into a trite engagement for a moment’s trouble. Still – “Let it not be said that I do not enjoy the chase,” Yassine said, leaning in, and he slipped a hand about her waist, held it there to see how she might react. It might already be too far – she might be offended, throw it off and storm away, if he had been reading too much into her remarks – but the prospect of a proper English debutante actually meaning what she said was too enticing not to put it to the test.
But better not here. “Perhaps you might give me a tour of the house,” Yassine ‘relented’, as though he did not mean a private tour, preferably of her bedroom. He raised an eyebrow, just a touch, to suggest it. “Later this evening, maybe? I should hate to miss anything.” She could take it or leave it, the offer; he fancied she was quick-witted enough to read between the lines well enough if she wanted to.
(And if she didn’t, she was probably beneath him anyway.)
And someone was certain to notice the young hostess’ absence if it was too prolonged, once the rest of the party had gone tramping back. Not that Yassine cared, particularly, for her sake: where the women he usually dallied with were one thing, getting involved with this sort – young ladies with family, reputation, money – might well, if he misjudged a move, ruin him as much as he could ruin her.
He had no intention of being trapped into a trite engagement for a moment’s trouble. Still – “Let it not be said that I do not enjoy the chase,” Yassine said, leaning in, and he slipped a hand about her waist, held it there to see how she might react. It might already be too far – she might be offended, throw it off and storm away, if he had been reading too much into her remarks – but the prospect of a proper English debutante actually meaning what she said was too enticing not to put it to the test.
But better not here. “Perhaps you might give me a tour of the house,” Yassine ‘relented’, as though he did not mean a private tour, preferably of her bedroom. He raised an eyebrow, just a touch, to suggest it. “Later this evening, maybe? I should hate to miss anything.” She could take it or leave it, the offer; he fancied she was quick-witted enough to read between the lines well enough if she wanted to.
(And if she didn’t, she was probably beneath him anyway.)
