Page 60 of The Boxing Baroness

“Nobody means any harm,” Marianne said hastily. “I can ask everyone to stop if you—”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Blade said mildly.

Another awkward silence filled the small room.

Sin was just about to take his leave when Marianne said, “Where is Angus?”

“He’s got a bit of a sniffle, so I left him at home tonight.”

Sin had never realized birds could get sniffles.

Blade cocked her head, her unnerving gaze still on Sin. “You look familiar to me.”

Was the woman jesting? “Er, I’ve been practicing your routine with you for several weeks,” Sin reminded her.

She gave a low chuckle. “No, I meant before you came to work here.”

“I don’t think we met until a few weeks ago.” That was the truth—Sin wouldn’t have forgotten meeting a woman like her.

His attention was drawn to a movement at her side, where a six-inch blade had appeared from nowhere. Sin knew she’d not been holding it a moment earlier because she had smoothed down her skirts with both hands when she’d stood.

Her fingers were as pale and slender as the rest of her, and they moved almost languidly, the knife spinning around the back of her hand before she caught it in her palm, around and around and around.

The three of them stood frozen, like figures in a statuary garden, the only movement that of the knife glinting and flickering.

“Well,” Blade finally said. “I suppose I should go and find Barnabas and tell him I can work tomorrow. Goodnight.”

Sin and Marianne murmured their goodnight.

When the door closed behind her, Marianne sagged against the dressing room table, sending bottles and pots clinking and rattling. She looked absolutely wrecked, the corners of her beguiling mouth turned down in an expression of self-loathing. When she looked up at him, he saw confirmation of her shame in her eyes.

Sin could guess what she was going to say before she said it.

“In spite of the way I just behaved, I hope you don’t think I’ll become your whor—”

“Don’t.”

Her eyes flashed. “Why not? I’m sure it’s what you’re thinking.”

“How about we have an agreement, Marianne. You don’t tell me what I’m thinking, and I shall do you the same courtesy. Because invariably, we would both guess wrong.”

“Fine. What are you thinking?”

“Several things, actually. My first thought—dishonorable though it might be—was that I am sorry we were interrupted.”

Her jaw sagged and her eyes widened.

Was it petty of him to enjoy putting such an expression of surprise on her face? Probably.

“But right behind that thought is a second one: I am sorry for my lapse in self-control.”

Her charming, wide-eyed look swiftly shifted to a mocking, jaded smirk that did not suit her nearly so well as the other expression. “Ah, yes—Lord Flawless should be above such earthy behavior.”

Sin studied her through narrowed eyes.

Slowly, like a sunset, her cheeks pinkened under his gaze.

“I have never claimed to be flawless, Marianne,” he said quietly. “As I’ve already confessed, I am a man who has physical desires, just like any other. I do strive to keep control over those desires, but I would be a liar and a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I found you attractive almost from the first moment I saw you.”