What do you choose as your prize?”
“It is truly a wonder that you aren’t married with all that conceit.”
He winked and leaned in. “You adore me.”
She shook her head in wary disbelief as though he’d transformed into a stranger before her eyes. Rhystan supposed he had. He hadn’t had this much fun in ages. Not since…well, five years ago.
Sarani narrowed her eyes at him. “Somehow I do not remember you being this vexing.”
“In my defense, I was trying to impress you back then.”
“And now?”
“Now I intend to trounce you soundly.” He pasted on a determined expression. “I’ll have you know, I take my kisses very seriously.”
She rolled her plump lips between her teeth as though not to smile and studied him, resolve firming her jaw before she nodded. “If I win, you’ll escort Ravenna to the next three balls of her choosing, including the one at Lady Windmere’s.”
Lady Windmere? He blinked, his brain cataloging the endless procession of eligible ladies who had been thrust upon him in the past week. A voice like razors on glass came to him, followed by roving hands better suited to a flash thief in St. Giles than a lady in Mayfair. The Duchess of Windmere was none other than the mother of Lady Penelope. The girl was tenacious and bold in an entirely unattractive way. How his own mother thought he would ever be inclined to marry a chit like that was beyond him. It was nearly enough to drain the lust from him.
He almost groaned and peered at Sarani, but her face gave nothing away. “That’s three things. Do I get three kisses?”
“Stop stalling,” she mocked. “Deal or no deal, Your Grace?” One slim, ebony brow arched, her horse prancing beneath her as amusement flashed in those autumn-colored eyes. God, she was beautiful. He wanted to lean over and claim that tart tongue right then.
Good thing he had no intention of losing. “Deal.”
Seventeen
The Duke of Embry seemed to be going a bit green in the gills. Sarani grinned. He looked like he’d eaten a bowlful of crow and was going to cast his accounts all over the ballroom. But the greenish tinge to his features was worth the look on his sister’s face when they’d been announced together by the majordomo at the entrance to the Duchess of Windmere’s midseason ball.
Lady Ravenna Huntley, accompanied by His Grace, the Duke of Embry.
Etiquette dictated that the duke be announced first, but Rhystan must have instructed the majordomo otherwise. Sarani had to admit it was a nice touch. Every eye in the room had turned to them, and even the grim dowager duchess—whom Sarani had arrived with earlier and, by some miracle, had not throttled in the carriage—had cracked a proud smile. Ravenna had not had her own coming-out ball after her presentation at court, given her brother’s absence, and this was the next best thing: a public presentation at the most popular ball of the season.
As Sarani had hoped, within moments, every single dance on Ravenna’s dance card had been claimed. Every bachelor in attendance longed for a connection, even through marriage, with the wealthy, elusive, and powerful Duke of Embry. As Sarani had also expected but wasn’t sure she liked, the duke had not been able to escape the clutches of Lady Penelope all evening.
The girl was relentless. Though she had ignored Sarani after that first soiree, deeming her of no consequence, once word of their engagement got out, Sarani knew things would take a turn for the worse. She recognized the type—the entitled girl who felt everything was her due. Including men.
Watching Rhystan surrounded by twittering debutantes, Sarani attempted to hide her grin behind her fan. She’d beaten him soundly in the horse race down Rotten Row, despite the challenges he’d enumerated, the least of which had been her scorching desire to be kissed. What an arrogant rotter! The thought of it still heated her insides to mortifying levels.
Because she had wanted it. She’d wanted him to kiss her. Hard. Deep. Soundly.
She’d wanted so much more than a kiss.
The way he’d looked at her when he’d teased of going to his knees… Intimate, wicked visions of him doing exactly that had crowded her brain. Even now, her body tingled with desire, her nipples pebbling beneath her bodice at the mere thought of being seduced by such a fit, virile man. She’d had such scandalous thoughts before, of course, but years ago, when her chaste fantasies had been those of a young girl.
Now, they