He peered up, his steel gray eyes surveying her with a glint of amusement. "To warm you." He walked toward her and handed her the glass. Her lips thinned. "No, thank you." Still shivering from the cold, she spared a glance at the door. She needed a wrap, and she needed him gone. "Ah," he replied, following her gaze. "Going to be that way, is it?" He lowered the drink onto the tray, and before she knew it, he had her in his arms, depositing her on a soft-tufted chair near the glowing hearth. "Warmer now?" Victoria gasped. "You take your liberties too far, Lord Drakefield." She narrowed her eyes as she followed his long purposeful strides back toward the brandy glass. Then he laughed and started toward her. "At least we're getting somewhere by calling me by name." "That is debatable." She pressed her lips together and glared at him. But as he closed the distance between them, the devilish gleam in his eye unnerved her so much that she jumped out of the chair and accidentally knocked the brandy all over his cravat.
