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Kristen kept stepping back. With a guilty conscience, she stammered and couldn’t form a complete answer. She was the traitor!
Only when she was cornered did she sense the danger. They were so close that she could feel his breath. She pressed her hands to his chest to push him away, wanting to say something, but then she remembered the immoral relationship between the brother and sister; worried that they would make an irreversible mistake, she decided to sacrifice herself.
It was a nice thought, but she was all talk and no action. The moment she pressed her hands to his chest, she stilled.
With a blush dusting her cheeks, she averted her gaze, her eyelashes fluttering in a lovely way. Innocence was the highest form of seduction—it applied to Mona, the battle nun, when she was wearing her white uniform, and to Kristen at this moment.
She wasn’t Filomina, and there was no bet between them....
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