Keep your hands off me.” She spoke viciously, through her teeth, and he caught a glimpse of her deVere ancestry. She was a virago in tiny, fragile, fairy form.

Good night, my lord.” The words were pronounced in her most withering tone.By contrast, he remained quite alarmingly unwithered long after she left.

I wouldn’t trust me, either, if I were you.

All right. You take the chair.

I should be obliged to marry you after all, and then I’d likely murder you before the wedding breakfast was over.