She looked suddenly – careful, and cautious, and very unlike the girl he’d witnessed scarcely a moment ago, spilling out her dreams of Paris and the life she wanted to lead. He had even almost meant the offer of a portkey sincerely, and sincerity was a strange taste on his tongue.

Indecency was much more like him, and the slowness of her question set him off again. She had meant it as a reprimand, he thought, that look in her eyes an attempt to chastise him – but she had come this far along with him, and ladies made little excuses like that all the time, and if he was not mistaken (he might be), she did not sound entirely unamused by the idea.

And she had spilled her drink all over him, so indulging him for a moment more was the least she could do to make amends. “And what if I am?” Kristoffer countered, raising an eyebrow in unspoken challenge. He was pleased she had figured that much out: he absolutely was propositioning her indecently. So now they would see if her protest was just for show, wouldn’t they? He fancied he could call her bluff. A smirk curled at the corner of his mouth for a moment again and faded; with that, he leant in deliberately, moving to close the distance and press his lips to hers.

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