Page 19 of In the Prince's Bed
“Likeyou.You deserve better than Lovelace, and we both know it.”
The startled look she shot him, followed by her softly murmured “Oh,” nearly unmanned him. He smoothed his hand from her waist to the tempting curve of her silk-sheathed back. A little lower and he could cup her fetching bottom. That would certainly shock all the matrons…and earn him a well-deserved slap.
He sighed. Wooing a woman had been a damned sight easier in Portugal. For one thing, there was no wooing with the sort of woman he’d known. A man could go straight to the swiving and forget all this dancing and chatter.
But if he wanted a wife, he must play by the rules. No dragging Miss Merivale off to the gallery, where he could lose himself in her honeyed lips again. Ladies preferred compliments. “I like your gown.”
She looked skeptical. “It’s not too red?”
Why would it be too red? “Of course not. It suits the theme of the ball.”
A small smile touched her lips. “Cherry blossoms are white.”
“Cherries are red.” He lowered his voice. “Like your lips.”
An inelegant snort erupted from her. “You must have found that one on page twenty-six.” When he blinked, she added, “Of some…er…book of flatteries.”
“Forgive me for not being as poetic as your precious suitor,” he snapped. “I didn’t think you’d want to hear my honest opinion of your gown.”
“You’re wrong—I much prefer sincerity to flattery.” Eyeing him from beneath lowered lashes, she said, “So what do youreallythink of it?”
“That it’s the most erotic gown I’ve ever seen.” He swept his hand along the sash at her waist. “I love how it clings to your breasts and your—”
“That’s enough.” She blushed furiously. “You mustn’t say such things.”
“You told me to be honest.”
“But not…I mean…” Sheer desperation shone in her eyes. “I’m sure this is all great fun to you, but it’s my life. I can’t have you mucking it up for your own entertainment.”
Anger flared in his chest. “You think I’m toying with you?”
“I know you take a perverse pleasure in taunting Sydney, but you don’t understand how difficult your mischief makes things for me.”
“Your jealous poet friend may have told you about my boyhood exploits, but he knows nothing of me as a man except gossip. I don’t get my ‘entertainment’ from toying with innocents.”
“Then what reasondoyou have for continually thrusting yourself into my presence?”
“The same reason any man has for pursuing a woman. Courtship.”
Her burst of laughter annoyed him. “Youmustbe joking.”
“Absolutely not.” He bent close to her ear. “Perhaps I should take you back out on the gallery and remind you how sincere I am.”
With a frown, she jerked back. “About kissing, yes. But that’s not the same thing. Your sort is always sincere about kissing.”
His eyes narrowed. “What sort is that?”
“You know—men of the world.”
“Even men of the world have to get married sometime,” he said irritably.
“Yes, but not to poor squires’ daughters with country manners. Especially when you possess a title as old and venerable as England itself.”
“What other reason could I have for pursuing you?”
“Don’t assume that because I’m a country girl I’m naive. I know very well that men like you only find amusement in the chase. But once you catch the hare, you’re done. While the hare is stewing in the pot.”
Her determination to think badly of him aggravated him more by the moment. He tugged her closer in the turn. “Somehow I can’t see you as a hare, Katherine.”
