Mrs Montrose glanced at him briefly over her shoulder, her brows drawing together with a look of frustration before she dismissed him again.
Oh yes, his instinct had been correct. Mrs Montrose did not like losing one bit.
The lady sniffed, raising her chin and pretending to examine the paintings lining the gallery as she wandered further down the hall.
“Not at all, Captain Starling. That would imply that I felt some way about you. No, you do notvexme. Although, your choice in waistcoats might come close.”
Starling grinned at the retort behind her back, admiring the delicate line of her spine as her neck curved into her shoulders above the dusky red gauze of her gown, a single tendril of dark hair trailing down over her nape and begging him to swipe it aside with his thumb.
It had been an amazing coincidence that his choice of attire had so closely matched her gown. He was sure it had galled her immensely.
God, he wanted her.It burned inside of him like an elemental flame.
Their earlier conversation had done nothing to dowse his ardour. If anything, the thought of learning all of Mrs Montrose’s sensual secrets had tied him in knots all evening.
“You might not feel something for my person, but I know you respond to my presence. I canfeelthe connection every time our eyes meet,” Starling said in return, hoping to goad her into some kind of response.
Anything but the remote disdain she had projected his way since their hushed conversation earlier.
She stiffened, turning her head slightly to glance at him from under her eyelashes.
Waiting.
Starling decided to take the lead.
You needed to reach for the thing you wanted in life.
“What was that you said to me that night at the Palais?You may fuck me, or you may kiss me.”Starling smiled as he said the words, stepping right up behind her so that he could smell the sweet rose scent of her skin.
“Perhaps we could revisit that conversation? I might choose differently this time.”
Helen’s shoulders rose as she took a shuddering breath, her head tipping back the barest hint as he lowered his voice, soothing her as he would a skittish filly.
Fuck, had he ever had to work this hard to convince a lady to lift her skirts? Or care so much if he failed, for that matter.
For some reason, the outcome of this conversation felt momentous. Starling had never wanted anything more desperately, it suddenly seemed.
She turned to him slowly, her gaze rising to his with a challenging glint, then leisurely working its way down over his body.
His muscles trembled with erotic tension, jumping with desire as the woman looked her fill of him, lingering on the bulge that was making itself painfully obvious behind his fall.
“Very well, I will have you, sir. For one night only, and on one condition.”
Starling felt the breath leave his lungs in a woosh, his hand already reaching out to trail its way down her arm, so desperate was he to feel her skin against his.
“Anything. Name your stakes.”
Helen’s mouth tipped up in a sphinx-like smile. “Stakes? What a wonderful idea.”
She tapped a finger against her lips, pretending to consider. Finally, she spoke again. “It is quite simple, really. Whoever begs the other first, wins.”
Starling grinned in victory, then quickly composed his face into a more suitably serious mein. “Wins what, madam?”
Helen shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. “The winner may choose the prize.”
Godamn. The woman had been sent to torture him.She had him by the balls, and she knew it well.
She was absolutely glorious.
