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“And you, my darling girl, are blushing again.”
Cordelia’s breath caught, strangling the words upon her tongue. She could not say who moved first, only that suddenly they were far too close, her forehead nearly brushing his nose, her breath tangling helplessly with his.
“Why are you here, Cori?”
His eyes, those impossible silver-gray eyes, were intent and searching, stripped of mockery and possessed of something she could not name.
“I…” Her voice faltered. “I heard this was a place you frequent, so I wished to see for myself the…degree of debauchery you indulge in.”
“Oh?” A faint curve touched his mouth. “And you are leaving already? It would take some time to truly discover all that Aphrodite offers, much less the level of debauchery in which I indulge.”
Mortification surged, hot and overwhelming. She made a low, helpless sound. “Perhaps…another time.”
“Why did you visit here?” he pressed. “Tell me the truth.”
She swallowed. “I wanted to know you better.”
“Following me into a place such as this is hardly the way to know me,” he said, his expression sharpening.
The rebuke ignited her temper. “Would you ever have told me of this place had I not followed you?” Her chin lifted. “If I were to accept your…attentions, would you casually confess that you frequent a pleasure palace and have known countless lovers?”
“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I would hardly introduce the subject over tea.”
“Then I would only know the version of you that you choose to present,” she said, her tone sharpening even as her voice trembled. “And I do not wish to build my regard upon a fabrication. I want to know the man as he truly is, unpolished, inconvenient truths and all. For how can I place my trust in anything you offer me, or in any word you speak, if you conceal yourself behind charm and half-truths?”
Her breath shuddered as she went on, quieter now, more earnest than tart. “Courtship is meant to be the foundation upon which everything else is built. Marriage, family, a shared life. It all rests upon honesty. If I am to risk my heart, I must know whom I am giving it to. Otherwise…” She faltered, fear flickering openly across her face. “Otherwise, I would forever wonder whether the man I bind myself to until death truly exists at all. That very notion is unbearable to me, my lord.”
“So you followed me here to know the real me?” he asked, his voice darkening.
She held his gaze, terrified and resolute in equal measure, silently asking whether he would try, truly try, to understand her heart. “Yes.”
His soft laugh, warm with affection and mockery, brushed against her skin like temptation itself, and he was so darkly seductive that Cordelia could scarcely draw breath. Her breasts felt peculiar, suddenly heavy and full, her nipples tightening with an almost painful sensitivity. It was as though he had awakened something within her that was entirely foreign, something she neither understood nor knew how to control. It was unforgivable that he could affect her so profoundly.
The words he had spoken earlier whispered through her thoughts.
A rogue is merely a man who understands pleasure and reveres it…
This rogue delights in a woman’s scent, her taste, the particular music of her pleasure…
She narrowed her eyes, wanting desperately to be annoyed that he could provoke such sensations with so little effort. Yet she would be a foolish lady indeed to blame him for her own reactions. She simply needed to master herself.
His mouth curved into that slow, devastating smile. It transformed an already handsome face into something dangerously, almost sinfully, beautiful. Coupled with the careless air of indolence that clung to him, as though nothing in the world had ever truly troubled him, he looked every inch a gentleman far too accustomed to temptation and far too confident of his ability to inspire it.
Worse, he seemed perfectly aware of the chaotic feelings stirring within her, of the reckless curiosity urging her to indulge just once, to discover for herself what ruination might taste like.
Oh God.
The realization that she wanted him to kiss her, wanted it with a desperation that was becoming increasingly difficult to disguise, almost undid Cordelia. As though he had divined her thoughts, George lowered his head and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, just beside her mouth. His warm breath brushed the closed seam of her lips in a slow, wicked caress that sent a startling shiver through her.
This was a seduction. She recognized it with every instinct of her being, yet she could not bring herself to retreat. Not when his nearness made her feel so wonderfully, dangerously alive. She did not wish to be captivated by him, but there was something about George Ashford that seemed to invite every foolish, reckless impulse she had ever possessed.
Cordelia scarcely knew whether she dared trust the feelings unfurling within her, for surely they led toward heartache. He was a rogue, after all, and a thoroughly unrepentant one! And yet, when his mouth drew near hers again, she found herself leaning toward him rather than away.
“I will show you who I truly am,” he said softly. “Do not regret it later, my sweet.”
“You…I…” Her words dissolved into a helpless moan as he moved from her cheek to trail his lips along her jaw, finally lingering over the pulse fluttering wildly at her throat.
“Though I ought to warn you, my sweet, that I have been imagining kissing you for weeks, and I fear I shall make a very poor showing of gentlemanly restraint.”
