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“You know,” Stark said, studying the portrait on the wall. “This is almost art. The light, the way it hits your face, that twinkle in your eye—or is that a malicious glimmer? I can never tell—that slight curve of your lips that's either you being amused or getting ready to eat someone. He caught the real you. Not many do. This guy has talent.”
Natalia leaned back against the throne, glaring at Stark's back. If she had known that Stark was a man she had encountered before, she would not have had him found, not even for Virginia's sake.
“You should have worn the green dress, though. It brings out your eyes.”
She turned to Lord Hawkeye. “He has been here for less than five minutes and he already irritates me enough for me to consider execution.”
Hawkeye smiled. “I knew you would like him.”
“That is not what I said.”
Hawkeye continued to smile, apparently enjoying her discomfort. He would not enjoy it so much later. “I have learned to interpret your wishes, my queen.”
“Have you now? And what is it you think I want?”
“Something,” he said, leaning in and letting his breath tease her neck, “that you will never get.”
She refused to react, even though her body's instinct was to shiver. Her lips curved as she caught hold of his cloak. “If I want something, I always get it.”
He pulled himself free. “Not this.”