Page 22 of Guilty Pleasures

Her voice brought his attention back to the reason he was here. He sat down in the chair opposite hers and struggled for something to say, something innocuous and pleasant. “What are you reading?”

“A biography of Cleopatra.”

“Indeed?” He glanced at the slim red volume on the table. The gilded title stamped on its face glittered in the candlelight. “That particular account of her life is rather an indifferent one. If you really wish to make a study of Cleopatra, there is a much better biography of her somewhere about.”

“What is wrong with this one?”

“There is no real historical value to it. It is completely personal.”

“Yes, but that is what I wanted. I already know the history surrounding her. I wanted to know more about her as a woman.”

“I see.”

The ironic note in his voice did not escape her. She bit her lip and looked away. After a moment, she returned her gaze to his and said, “By all accounts, I mean . . . she was not beautiful, but she did have a certain . . . certain . . . well—”

“Sexual allure?” he supplied, rather enjoying the way her cheeks tinted a delicate pink at his words. God, Miss Wade was embarrassed. She was usually as placid as a millpond, but the past two days were making him wonder if beneath her unruffled exterior, there might be a woman after all.

She carried on valiantly, trying to sound quite academic and intellectual on the subject. “That, of course, but she must have had more than that. Something undefinable. A magical, captivating quality.”

“Is that what you wish to be, Miss Wade?” he asked. “Magical and captivating?”

She stiffened in her chair, suddenly as prickly as the outside of a chestnut. “Are you making fun of me?” she asked in her quiet voice.

The question startled him, for he’d had no intention at all of making fun. “No,” he answered. “I was not. I was simply curious.”

She did not seem to believe him, but she shrugged as if it did not matter and continued, “Caesar knew making Cleopatra his queen would not be a popular decision, but he had planned to do it anyway because he wanted her so much. He was murdered because of his passion for her.”

“No,” Anthony corrected, “Caesar was murdered because he was stupid. His passion for a woman was the catalyst of his death.”

“Perhaps, but for all that, his feeling was no less powerful. Then take Marc Antony. At the battle of Actium, he gambled everything to win Cleopatra’s kingdom back for her. Why?”

“Does it matter why? Marc Antony was as foolish as Caesar had been. Whatever his feelings, he should never have engaged in the battle. It was a futile attempt.”

“Futile? He nearly won.”

Before he could reply, a voice spoke from the other end of the room. “Begging your pardon, your grace, but Mr. Richardson says your bath is waiting, and your meal will be ready shortly.”

Anthony glanced up to see a footman standing in the doorway. “I shall be along in a moment.”

The footman gave a bow, then departed. Anthony returned his attention to the woman opposite him. “In war, Miss Wade, the fact that he nearly won counts for nothing. Marc Antony was a brilliant general, and he should have known he would lose at Actium. Octavian had marshaled all the forces of Rome against him. Reason dictated that he retreat.”

“But what makes you think reason had anything to do with it?” she countered. “He loved her, and that power she had over him went beyond his reason.”

He made a sound of impatience. “Trust a woman to bring emotion into an intellectual discussion.”

“Trust a man to denigrate the power of love.”

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair. “Love should never conquer reason.”

“But it so often does.”

“With tragic results.”

“For Marc Antony and Cleopatra, perhaps,” she was forced to concede. “But not for everyone. Some people can be made quite happy by it.”

“In the short term, perhaps.”

He could tell his firm resolve in this discussion frustrated her. She lifted her gaze heavenward, clearly frustrated with him. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she cried, “have you never known anyone who was happy in love?”

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