Eric's fingers easily caught the woolen blanket, and he pulled it away from his eyes, a playful, challenging grin on his face. "Kill me?" he asked, his voice a low, amused rumble. "Why would you kill me, my dear Duchess?"
He stood up from the bed in one smooth, graceful motion and faced her. The small, rustic room suddenly felt much smaller with him standing so close. "If we are to be living together in such close quarters," he continued, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "then let us just be fair and see each other. It is the most logical solution." He looked at her chest then her figure, her lips and her eyes.
Delia gasped, her cheeks burning a bright red. "Eric Carson! What are you saying?" She instinctively crossed her arms around her chest, a protective gesture to shield herself from his teasing gaze and the scandalous suggestion.
