How could one man make such an innocuous word sound so wicked?
“Courting lessons,” she elaborated.
Not whatever lessons he implied. However enjoyable and forbidden and tempting they may be.
“Now that I am here, we may as well begin,” he said, stroking his jaw as if contemplating something colossal. He wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “But first, the book, if you please. It is horridly unkind of you not to share the reading tastes of a lady with me.”
Drat him, why did he have to fixate upon the book? It was as if the man possessed a secret window into her mind. He seemed to know that she wanted to keep him as far away fromThe Tale of Loveas possible. Meanwhile, he wanted to get his hands upon it. Thinking of his hands made her glance down, once more, to his outstretched palm and long, elegant fingers. When had a gentleman’s hand ever made her knees go weak? And why could she not look upon them without imagining them touching her…
Gliding over her bare skin in the whisper of a decadent caress…
Oh, dear.Her cheeks went hot. Perhaps she had been reading Christabella’s wicked books for too long. She was growing fanciful. And foolish.
She cleared her throat. “It is a volume of poetry. I hardly think you would find it of interest.”
“I adore poetry.” This time, he flashed her a grin.
He wasenjoyingthis, the knave.
“Here is your first lesson,” she snapped. “Do not harass a lady over her reading choices. Perhaps she does not want to share. Perhaps she recognizes the importance of leaving a bit of mystery to everything.”
“Does this rule apply to all ladies, or just you, my dear Miss Winter?” he asked.
“It certainly applies to me,” she told him airily, “though I cannot speak for all other ladies. Certainly, forcing a lady to do anything against her will is strictly against the rules of proper courting.”
“On that we are in agreement.” His expression, like his tone, had turned solemn. His eyes searched hers. “But there is always persuasion, is there not?”
He stepped nearer.
She emitted a most unladylike squeak. He was close enough to kiss now. Not that she wanted to kiss him. Her gown was billowing into his legs. How tall he was, she thought again. She was accustomed to looming over most gentlemen, but not Lord Ashley. He stood at least half a head taller than she.
“Persuasion?” she asked, then shook her head so vehemently the hair framing her face swept into her eyes. “Persuasion is not part of the rules of courtship, my lord.”
She blinked, but the dratted curls her lady’s maid had fashioned that morning remained lodged to her eyelashes, impeding her sight.
Until Lord Ashley moved suddenly, using his outstretched hand to brush the curls from her eyes. The pads of his fingertips grazed her cheek. The touch—nothing more than the mere glance of his skin against hers—sent a bolt of white-hot desire straight to her core. The place where he had touched her tingled. Every part of her felt alive.
Their gazes met once more, and this time, they held.
“In my experience, persuasion is one of the most enjoyable forms of wooing a lady,” he said, his voice low.
The glorious rumble of it settled over her.
“What manner of persuasion?” she dared to ask.
Even though she knew such a question was foolhardy.
Even though she knew better than to pose such a question to a man like Lord Ashley Rawdon.
He was trouble, after all.
“This is the sort of thing better demonstrated than explained, I find,” he said then, and his gaze had dipped to her lips. “Shall I?”
She thought, quite uselessly, that she would have said yes to anything he asked with that molten stare of his upon her, his scent filling her senses, his large, strong form towering over her. He made her feel feminine. Feminine and desirable.
Dangerous combinations.
“That will not be necessary,” she forced herself to say. “I am sure I can surmise, Lord Ashley. Now, if you do not mind, please be kind enough to grant me some space. The second lesson of proper courting is that you ought to observe the proprieties at all times.”
She said the last as much to remind herself as to remind him.
But it would seem it did her little good. For in the next instant, she found herself wrapped in his arms.
“To hell with propriety,” he growled. “Allow me to show you the finer art of persuasion, Miss Winter.”
And then, his mouth touched hers.
