Page 23 of A Deal with the Devil

Chapter Seven

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” She sounded sharp, stern. Like a proper spinster.

She knew it wouldn’t be enough to deter a man like Devil. She wasn’t a complete idiot. Despite the fact that she found the moss-green flash of his eyes distracting, the slightly too perfect shape of his mouth fascinating.

He was every inch the fallen angel: beautiful, tempting, burning with an unholy power. With that strangely delicate curl to the side of his lips when he almost smiled.

Possibly she was reading too many novels.

This was a man who always got what he wanted and who was at this very moment trying to intimidate her. He hadn’t threatened her yet, but it was surely the very next thing on his agenda.

The fact that he smelled delicious made no difference to her.

She hadn’t even noticed.

Much.

She refused to take a deep breath to figure out if it was cedar or pine. Or frankincense? Definitely incense: sweet, spicy, smoky.

To a church she had never been to, where devils were angels. Where fire did not burn—it merely led you home.

“Kitty.” It was clearly not the first time he had said her name. His half-smile was devastating. “Am I boring you, Miss Caldecott?”

She swallowed. “Not at all. But we’re closed for the day.” She moved slightly, trying to slip past him.

His hands closed around the edge of the desk on either side of her. There was no violence or anger to the movement, only finality. He wanted her caged and so she was caged. “I don’t think so.”

“Goodness, I had no idea you were so obsessed with literature,” she said, deciding to brazen it out. “I suppose I could sell you some poetry. Byron? Or perhaps A Vindication of the Rights of Women? I always keep it in stock.”

He leaned a little closer, just enough that she could not see anything but him. Gone was the bookshop, the light darkening at the window behind him. There was only Devil. “I’ve already read it.”

“You…have?”

“And I’m not here to discuss literature or political tracts, Miss Caldecott. You’ve taken something from me and I’ll have it back.”

“Egregious accusation.”

Also: entirely true. Kitty was desperate enough to try anything. It would save her sister. Lord knew, her other plans had not.

And now here she was.

“I imagine you have already searched my shop,” she said. It had taken him a few weeks to find her, after all.

He inclined his head.

“Arrogant jackass,” she muttered.

“What was that?” The question was smooth, a challenge. She felt the press of his knee against her, the brush of his arm. Her breath stuttered, just a little.

“You broke into my shop, didn’t you?” she accused.

“Well, you did steal from me.”

“I can’t imagine why you think so, as you’ve found not a shred of evidence.”

“I’m not done searching.”

“Oh? I assure you, you’ll find nothing untoward on my person.” She lifted the hem of her borrowed dress, past the plain stockings where they were tied with ribbon at her knee. He tracked her fingers, the bare skin of her thigh.