Page 28 of Ravishing Camille

She gave a laugh. “Oh, do not patronize me, dear sir.”

He spun. He’d train his eyes on her face. He would. He had a devil of a time of it, though. “I don’t. You’re very good.”

“Thank you.” But she gave him a challenging arch of her brows. “But I write for my readers. Not for Dickens’s or Thackery’s or Hugo’s. Just mine. I don’t wish to be other. So if you are humoring me with your faint praise…”

He stood taller. “But I’m not. You write dramatic prose, good prose, substantial characters.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I take the compliment. Many men look down upon what I write. For women. About women.”

“Who dares to criticize you?” If he asked the question to lead her toward an answer he hoped he’d get, he had to acknowledge that such was no less than what he often did with business associates. But she was not that, at all.

Not…at all.

She was…always would be…his talented…young…step-sister.

She bristled. “Many men proclaim their superior abilities to review literature.”

“Ah. Yes, I understand.” What else did he understand? That she had been his to protect and on occasion when she was younger, his to escort informally at family functions. His to accompany and converse with. Yes. His to laugh with. Always.

“I don’t care what they think.” She crossed her arms.

And in the doing, she pushed up the contours of her breasts in such a manner that out of respect, he sought to cover his mighty response by seeking the opposite chair.

Now she tipped her head the other way. “Pierce? What bothers you?”

If you knew, you’d shove me out the door.“I wonder how long you’ve known Aldridge Connor.”

She shrugged. “Two years. Three. Why?”

“Is he one you consider for the honor of becoming your husband?”

She sputtered in laughter. “My, my! Do you need all those words to ask me if I love him?”

“I do.”

That took her aback.

“Do you?” He had to know.

“Love him?”

He nodded.

She knit her brows. “I haven’t decided.”

“Ha!” he crowed and slapped a hand on one knee, whether in delight or disbelief, he couldn’t say. “You don’t know?”

“If I love him?”

“Yes!”

She glanced about the room. Then came back to focus on him. “No.”

“But you should!”

“That’s what I’m discovering!” She smiled but when he didn’t respond, the corner of her mouth turned down.

Was she angry or confused? He couldn’t tell. Damn! He had to continue with this! “Don’t you see?”