and the bed—of course, she took the chair. She was thinking hard—
he should have known she wouldn't be defeated that easily.
"Let's discuss this like civilized adults," she said in her prim voice, reminding him of an old governess he'd once had. That is, if Miss Trilby had ever had a bewitching mouth, gold-flecked skin, an exceptional body and enjoyed dressing in monk's robes. "First, it's absurd to call me child when I'm two years older than you are.”
He sauntered over to the bed, stretching out on it and tucking his arms behind his head, prepared to enjoy this. There was no hurry to get her on her back. He could get what she had between her legs from anyone—it was her character that made her different. Interesting. Delightful. "How did you happen to discover how old I am?" he asked mildly enough. "What made you inquire?"
He knew the answer to that, of course. She'd been silly enough to have a crush on him. He could have told her he wasn't worth the bother, but she'd kept herself at a distance, only her eyes touching him. He could tell her now, but he expected she'd already come to that conclusion by herself. He was a useless, vain, ornamental sybarite with nothing to offer the world.
She started to blush, then controlled it. He watched with fascination. He would have thought a woman incapable of controlling her physical responses like that. It made him more curious than ever to see what other kinds of involuntary responses he could bring from her and how she would struggle to contain them.
"Someone must have mentioned it in passing," she said, lying admirably.
"And you happened to remember?"
"I was shocked that someone as old as twenty-eight would still be lost to propriety, a slave to decadence and lascivious riot."
Lascivious riot? He liked the sound of that. "My cousin Etienne is thirty years older than I am and just as debauched. Possibly more so, though I do hope to attain his level someday."
She refused to be baited. "Nevertheless, I'm two years older than you are, and to call me child is patently absurd."
"Sweet Charlotte," he said softly, watching her flinch as he used her name, "you are a mere infant when it comes to the darker side of the world."
"I prefer it that way."
He shrugged. "Tant pis. You're here now, by your own volition, stepping into the darkness. No one forced you to come to the Revels, to dress in a monk's robe. You toot the chance, and now you're going to have to pay the price. But there's no need to look so distraught. I have no doubt you'll emerge from this place a sadder but wiser woman, with no troubling illusions left."
"I had no illusions about you, sir," she said
"Didn't you?" He was wearing soft boots, easily removed, and he kicked them off. "I rejoice to hear it. Was there anything else you wished to address like a civilized adult before you come to bed?"
She looked more annoyed than frightened. Good for her. "Be reasonable. I have no idea why you've suddenly decided I'm fair game, but we both know I'm not the kind of woman you bolher with. I'm too tall, my hair is too red, I have freckles and... and..."
“Yes?" he said encouragingly.
She took a deep breath, diving in. "And I'm not... pretty. Some of the most beautiful women in the world are here and available tonight, and I'm quite... ordinary. You don't want to waste your time with a plain, elderly spinster."
It cost her to say that. He wanted to get up, cross the room and pull her into his arms. To touch that gold-flecked skin, that beautiful mouth, and tell her how pretty she was.
But she wouldn't believe it, not from anyone, but least of all from him. So he stayed where he was, and shrugged. "Perhaps I was looking for something a little different."
And she would be a great deal of trouble, he had absolutely no doubt of it. Making the reward all the sweeter. One thing particularly fascinated him. She was more interested in convincing him that he didn’t want her, not that she wasn't drawn to him. He wasn't particularly vain, but he knew women.
He knew her. "I'm afraid I like a challenge," he said.
She bit her lip, frustrated. "What can I do to convince you to let me go?"
He looked at her as all sorts of erotic thoughts danced in his head. "Why, I'll let you go, my pet.
Once