“You’re an American,” he said flatly. “Your entire country is wholly uncivilized. Nothing you could say would shock me.”
“Even if I said I wanted to do it again?” she asked, genuinely curious as to what his response would be. She knew that she was testing waters best left alone, at least for now. But provocation was its own source of power, and Weston wasn’t the only one seeking to regain control. In this ongoing battle of wills, there was room for a single victor, and Evie was determined it was going to be her.
Before…whatever it was they’d done last night (encounter did not begin to cover it), she’d thought to keep their physical interaction to a bare minimum. But since the only time Weston let his guard slip was when they were wrapped in a passionate embrace, she would surely be remiss if she didn’t use their tangible attraction towards each other as a means to achieve her ultimate goal.
She even toyed with the idea of going a step further. Given Weston’s strong sense of responsibility, as shown by his refusal to leave her or Posy behind, he would feel obligated to marry her when…that was to say,ifthey had intimate relations.
The sort that ended in a bed, not with Weston storming out of the room.
But while Evie was desperate to make a good match and retrieve her mother’s ring in the process, she wasn’t yetthatdesperate. The British author Francis Edward Smedley may have claimed that all was fair in love and war, but what he’d failed to mention was that there were unspoken guidelines. And tricking a man into marriage by nefarious–albeit pleasurable–means was largely frowned upon.
Not to say that shewouldn’truin herself with the earl.
But surely it was best kept as a last resort.
Besides, if she had to choose, she’d rather a man marry her out of some sort of emotional attachment (it didn’t have to be love; a mild affection would suffice) instead of a sense of forced responsibility.
In short, she wanted Weston to propose not because hehadto, but because hewantedto. A distinction that was notable only because she hadn’t bothered to make it before she and the earl had set out on their misguided adventure.
“No, Miss Thorncroft, we willnotbe doing that again,” said Weston, speaking with the absolute certainty of someone who had just declared the sky was blue and the grass was green. “If you’ll recall, we both agreed that our first kiss was a mistake. The second was no different.”
“That’s all right.” Unfolding the dress he had given her, Evie held it up for closer inspection. “I am certain there will be plenty of eligible bachelors at the house party who would be more than happy to…strike up a conversation with me.”
“I hadn’t realized you were so free with your charms,” Weston said caustically.
Evie slowly lowered the dress to meet his stare over the hideously square neckline. “Are you jealous?” she asked with a coy flutter of her lashes. “I assumed that was the purpose of house parties. For young women seeking a husband to mingle with young men seeking a wife. Or am I mistaken and everyonereallyattends for the lemonade and the parlor games?”
“Is that the real reason you’re going, then?” His face expressionless, Weston leaned back against the windowsill and crossed his arms. “To find some pitiful bloke either too stupid or miserable enough to marry you?”
A flash of angry pink bloomed high on her cheeks at the blunt insult. “If you must know, yes, that ispreciselywhy I am going. And you’re right, my future fiancé is both stupidandmiserable.”
Weston’s eyes narrowed. “Then you’ve already selected him?”
Her laugh cut through the air like the slash of a whip. “I fail to see how that is any of your concern.”
“Because he is my guest. And as I consider all of my guests to be acquaintances, if not friends, I’d like to give the fellow fair warning before you sink your claws into him.”
“Iam your guest,” she pointed out. “Does that make us friends, Lord Hawkridge?”
Now he was the one who laughed; the harsh sound containing no more humor than hers had. “If I had friends like you, Miss Thorncroft, I’d have no need for enemies.”
“Do you kiss all your enemies?” she taunted.
Angry black storm clouds rolling across a clear blue sky would have been less menacing than the dangerous glint in Weston’s gaze. Pushing away from the wall with the heel of his boot, he stalked over to her. “Careful, Miss Thorncroft.”
“Or what?” Evie had three sisters. An arrogant earl did not intimidate her in the slightest.
“Or you won’t like the consequences.”
Her chest rose on an angry intake of breath, breasts straining against the rigid boning of her corset. “Is that a threat, Lord Hawkridge?”
He smile darkly. “That is a promise. Now get dressed and meet me downstairs, or find your own way to Hawkridge Manor.”
He was losinghis mind, Weston decided as he waited for Evie to join him out front of the tavern. Or maybe he’d already lost it. That would explain his behavior over the past day and a half, as nothing else did.
A misting rain fell, coating his hair and shoulders. He closed his eyes, welcoming the touch of the cool water on his skin and hoping it would help to calm all this heat inside of him. Bursts of sparks and flame that Evie, damn her, had ignited with that first sultry glance across the ballroom.
And he’d been burning ever since.
