Page 46 of Guilty Pleasures

Daphne looked up into his face, and in the hazel depths of his eyes, she saw something relentless and challenging, but though she felt her insides quivering, it was not with fear.

“You could get your spectacles back quite easily if you wanted to, you know.”

His voice was deceptively soft, and Daphne knew she should take his advice and run, but the intensity of his gaze was enough to keep her pinned to the wall. “How?”

“Women have so much power,” he mused almost as if to himself. “I fail to understand why they so often choose not to wield it.”

“What power?”

“A woman can get anything she wants out of a man, if she goes about it the right way. Some women know this instinctively. Most have not the slightest clue. You, Miss Wade, fall into the latter category.” He leaned forward, and she could feel the heat of his body even though he was not touching her at all. “If you want that power, I could show you how to use it.”

“If there is something for my social instruction that I need to know, tell it to me at once,” she whispered. “Stop toying with me.”

“I am toying with you because this is a game. I will not let you win, but I can teach you how to play.”

Something in those words made her shiver with excitement. “I really do not know what you are talking about.”

“The real question is, what do you want? Do you want to be a proper young lady, or do you want to be Cleopatra?”

“Both.”

“Ah. That is an interesting answer, and brings with it an even more interesting question. Can a young lady be captivating and alluring, and still be proper, do you think?”

“Why not?”

“Why not, indeed.” His lashes lowered until his eyes were half-closed. “If I do give you back your spectacles, what do I receive in return?”

“The satisfaction of doing the right thing?”

He laughed low in his throat. “Not good enough.”

“What, then?” she asked. “What do you want?”

His gaze moved to her mouth, lingered there. “What are you offering?”

Daphne licked her lips, and she heard his sharp intake of breath. “Three days,” she whispered. “You may have three more days.”

“Three days? You are a miser, Miss Wade.”

She had to stick to her guns. She had to be strong. “Three days. No more.”

“A week.”

“Three days.”

“No, then. What else do you have to offer?”

He bent his head, moving closer, just a little bit closer. This time, she was going to let him kiss her, and she felt again that wild surge of excitement and anticipation, remembering all the times she had watched him through a spyglass, dreaming, wondering what his kiss felt like. It was certainly living up to her daydreams so far, for her knees were weak and her insides shaky, but she would die rather than give him an inkling of how she felt.

She flattened back against the wall behind her, trying to gain a bit more distance between them and catch her breath, but it did her no good. Her own past imaginings still rose up to taunt her, of all the times she had imagined his lips gently brushing hers, of a sweet word of affection or regard. Just the thought of those things was enough to hurt, but she still wanted him to kiss her. Heaven help her, she did. She was a fool.

Anthony lowered his head just a fraction more, and she reminded herself that this was a game, his game. Because of that, she was the one who would lose. Damn him for playing with her like this. Damn herself, for this time, she could not even summon the will to turn her face away.

“I shall give you back your spectacles, if—” He stopped, his lips only a few inches from her own. “If you kiss me.”

From sheer desperation to escape him and the sensations he was evoking in her, Daphne raised up on her toes and pressed her lips to one corner of his mouth in a lightning-quick move. “There,” she said, lowering her heels back to the floor. “Now give them back.”

“No, no, I must object to your definition of a kiss. That was not a kiss. It was a peck on the cheek.”

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