Evelyn looked at him like he was crazed.
"I'm being serious; stop laughing at me."
Obviously, she couldn't help it, for it was a good five minutes before she wiped the tears from her eyes. "Are you making this up so you can spend time with me?"
"Although my behavior in the past would point you to that obvious conclusion, no. I'm not making it up, and my mother didn't even deny it! Like I said, I'll prove it."
"When?" she asked, looking more amused than she should.
"Tonight!" He pointed into the air with triumph. "I overheard the butler, who was talking to the kitchen staff, who were preparing a private dinner for my mother and a guest this evening!"
"And you overheard it from the butler, who heard it from the kitchen staff?"
Royce's brow furrowed. "Well, when you repeat it like that, it doesn't sound as impressive. Let's just for one minute say I'm right. Wouldn't you want to know if your daddy was cavorting with a woman?"
"Fine, you've made your point. But if you're lying, Royce McArthur, I might find that knife again."
"Impossible. I've hidden all sharp objects. For my personal safety, you understand."
Rolling her eyes, she took another sip of tea. "Where shall I meet you?"
He looked appalled. "Meet me? We can't have you meet me anywhere! Just think! A young girl walking the streets like a common—"
Her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly.
So he finished, "—person. I'm going to come fetch you at seven tonight. We will then make our way to my house, where we will sneak into the back via the servants' entrance."
"Perfect."
She sounded less than enthused.
"You could sound a bit more excited about our secret rendezvous." He pouted, crossing his arms.
"First off, it's not a lovers' rendezvous. If you're tricking me, I'm finding the closest weapon and using it. Second." She held up her tiny hand, trying to be threatening. "It's not technically a secret, because everyone involved knows about it."
"Our parents don't know."
"Ah, but they don't know we know, so it's different."
Royce felt confused. "Wait. That still means it's a secret."
"It's not a secret!" she snapped, nearly dropping her teacup.
Carefully, as to not scare the girl, he took the teacup from her hands and started talking in soft tones. "Okay, you win. It's not a secret. Have you by, uh, any chance eaten more than the biscuits here today? I think you're hungry. It's probably why you were so weak yesterday. You're spending all your energy fighting your feelings. Maybe you should just give in to your basic needs."
"Royce." Evelyn placed her finger over her temple as if she were trying to conjure up some semblance of patience. "I'm not hungry, for either type of food."
"But you're grumpy, and last time you were grumpy—last time being the ball, you were grumpy. At least somewhat. You wouldn't even let me seduce you in the gardens. Next time I plan a seduction, I do intend to feed you first, so your body is so busy digesting your food, you won't even notice my sneak attack."
Evelyn smiled. "None of what you just said had even a hint of romance. You do realize that, don't you?"
Royce shrugged. "I've lost my touch. At least that's how it's been ever since we've been keeping company."
"Correction. You've been trying to keep company; I've been trying to elude said company."
He laughed, pushing himself off of the sofa. "Oh is that right?"
The air in the room became ripe with tension as he braced both sides of her chair with his hands and leaned down. "Admit it. You kind of like me."
She met his gaze and swallowed. "Lying is a sin."
"So give an honest answer." His breath fanned over her face as he whispered into her ear. "I'm waiting."
Another long pause.
He decided it was as good a time as any to let her know what she was missing by constantly rejecting him, and then he saw her face. It looked … oh, no. It looked vulnerable and—dare he hope—willing. He couldn't seduce her, not when she looked so pure and innocent—and perfect.
As he looked down at her perfect lips, he couldn't remember why he was arguing with himself over seducing her. That was the intended purpose. Without any more thought, he brought his lips to hers in a chaste kiss, fully expecting to be rejected. Instead, she moaned and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him almost into her lap.
Not one to ever say no to a beautiful woman he desired, Royce deepened the kiss. Slipping past the defense of her lips, using his tongue to draw her more and more into his haze of seduction.
Her grasp tightened on his neck, and he struggled to coherently think of a way he could continue kissing her without compromising her or causing such a commotion as to scare her off. And then she kissed him back.
He had thought she was kissing him before. No, he was wrong. Royce was hardly ever wrong, but in this instance, he was thankful. For the innocent was not so innocent as to not understand how to kiss a man and make it count.
Forgetting his name, his purpose in life, and forsaking all else, Royce lifted her out of the chair and pulled her into a tight embrace, moving her to the nearest settee, so he could fully take advantage of the privacy offered.
And then, for some reason, as he brought her close to the settee, so close to where he wanted her to be, she stiffened.
He recoiled, knowing he fully deserved to be slapped.
Instead, she pulled back, gasped, put her hand over her mouth, and shook her head. "I don't know what came over me!"
Oddly enough, Royce had a few things he could say to her little outburst, but wisdom told him to stay put. Unfortunately for Royce, he rarely listened to wisdom, so he decided to say, "I certainly do!" And then promptly winked.
"Ah ha! There it is!" he exclaimed as her hand flew through the air in the direction of his face. He quickly grabbed her flying hand and twisted her into an embrace, pinning her hands down by her sides, so he could freely whisper into her ear. "Don't overthink it. I'll see you tonight. At seven. Be ready."
With that he slowly released her and stalked out of the room. The grin on his face was not lost on the butler, who slammed the door behind him.
Whoever said Southerners were the friendliest people around had obviously not met the De Jarlias family or their staff.
Seven couldn't come soon enough.
Chapter Eight
Evelyn felt like a fool. She had kissed a man she was certain she despised, and she had thoroughly enjoyed it! What was wrong with her? She wanted to scream, yet the only thoughts she could string together had to do with the way Royce's hands felt on her back and her face. Or the way his lips felt against hers. It was perfect. If she was ever asked to describe the perfect kiss, that would have been it. She hated him for it.