“But one can’t always attend the opera. One can always open a book.”
She uttered a frustrated sound. “What about physical things, like dancing? There’s no dancing in books.”
“No?” He drew down another book. “Here’s one that explains how to perform dances.” He flipped through it and showed her the diagrams. “You see? Youcanfind dance in books.”
She shook her head. “Reading about dancing isn’t the same thing as performing a dance.”
“Actually, it’s better. If I read about it, I don’t have to deal with too-hot ballrooms or having my toes stepped on.” He cast her a cold glance. “Or superior females who think themselves too fine to dance with me.”And sing with me.
She flushed, yet she wouldn’t let go of her argument. “You also don’t know the joy of touching another human being.” She approached him, and he sucked in a heavy breath. “Or the thrill of passion. Don’t you dare tell me you can getthatfrom a book, because I know better.”
“Oh? I would have thought a well-bred lady like yourself hadn’t experienced ‘the thrill of passion.’ ”
A faint flush turned her cheeks rosier than before. “You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant.”
“Ah, yes.” He scoured her with a contemptuous look. “From what I’ve heard, you won’t even allow your sniveling admirers to kiss your hand.”
“At least I dance with them. The only femalesyouallow near your estate are servants, for heaven’s sake. Unless there reallyarewomen in your dungeon.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her blush deepened. “The gossips say that…that you chain women up in your dungeon to…have your way with them.”
Oh, for God’s sake—“And you believe that?”
She thrust her chin out at him. “I might. Especially given how much trouble you seem to have with pleasing women whoaren’tchained up.”
He stalked up to loom over her, but that proved a mistake, for now he could smell the seductive scent of honey-water wafting off her and could see the golden tendrils feathering her neck. Her aristocratic arch of a neck that he wanted to—
He dragged his gaze to her face. “I know how to please a woman well enough when I set my mind to it.”
“Do you?” She arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen little evidence of that.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“No? Then prove it. Prove that you can please a woman.”
Somewhere in the dim recesses of his fevered brain, he realized she meant a different sort of pleasing than he did—compliments and courtesies and gentlemanly behavior. But at the moment he didn’t care. He’d had enough of her lies and her condescending taunts. He’d show her once and for all what happened to any woman foolish enough to bait him.
“Fine. Since you insist…” And without giving her a chance to protest, he bent his head and kissed her right on the lush red mouth that had tortured his dreams last night.
She jerked back, her eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
“You told me to prove I can please a woman.”
“I didn’t meanthatkind of pleasing.”
“But I did.” She hadn’t yet slapped him, which emboldened him enough to add, “Apparently I wasn’t convincing, however, so I’ll have to try again.” Reaching up, he caught her chin in one hand.
Alarm flickered in her eyes. “This is not acceptable. We are not in your dungeon here, I’ll have you know.”
“What a pity.” He snaked his free arm about her waist. “You could use some chaining up.”
She fisted her hands against his chest. “You’d never dare. And I’d never allow it.”
“Oh? What would you do to stop me? I hate to tell you, but your little ‘cuts direct’ won’t work in the dungeon.”
“I did not give you the cut di—”