Page 7 of A Promising Little Scandal (Sensual Scandals)

However, instead of simpering like some empty-headed debutante, she looked him square in the eyes. “Pushing the boundaries a bit, aren’t you, Lord Blakely?”

He grinned broadly in return. “I shan’t be the rake everyone believes I am if I don’t act as such.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Don’t say it’s all an act?”

“Naturally, I can be quite convincing if the need arises,” he countered evenly. “But in this case, I fear it is all too true. I’ve earned every bit of my scandalous reputation.”

She laughed a second time, and he nearly missed a step in the dance. He never did that. “Most would be horrified to allow themselves to accept that, and yet, you seem to pride yourself upon it.”

He adopted a lazy smile. “I have yet to hear any complaints.”

“There’s always a first time for everything.” Her lips twisted mirthfully, and she slid her gaze away.

Damn, but he wanted to kiss that saucy mouth of hers! He was doing his best not to let the unruly cock in his trousers stir to life, but she was making it deuced difficult. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

She snorted. “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She pinned him with emerald fire shining within the depths of her eyes. “To add me to your list of conquests.”

He seemed to mull the idea over for a moment. “I admit that it has quite a bit of merit, but I know I could never coerce you to travel down that path to pleasure.”

He could feel her stiffen slightly. “Are you suggesting that I could be frigid because I won’t let you take advantage of me?”

“Not at all. Merely that I have given up the pursuit, for the effort is quite unattainable.” He gave a heavy sigh at the end of his statement for added dramatic effect.

Her lips pursed. “I will have you know that the reason I won’t allow myself to engage in anything more than a mild flirtation with you, is because I know that, not only are your intentions not sincere in the least, but I don’t have any interest in you at all.”

If Sebastian hadn’t been so confident of his prowess before now, her accusation might have stung. But since he had been told, on more than one occasion, about his ability to please a woman, he merely splayed his hand more firmly across her back. With his other, he started to slide his thumb in slow, sensual circles where their hands connected. Again, there was that hitch in her breathing.

He lowered his voice an octave and whispered, “Do you know what I think, Lady Calliope?” He took advantage of her surprise to answer his own query. “Something tells me that you aren’t frigid in the least, but rather the exact opposite. I think you burn with a passionate fire, but that intensity frightens you, and that is the reason you shun my advances. Because if you actually give in to me, you would have to admit defeat, and for someone who yearns to be independent, that would ruin everything.”

It wasn’t often that Calliope found herself speechless, but he had managed the impossible. She wasn’t sure if she was more appalled by Lord Blakely’s nerve in speaking so boldly—or angry that he could see through her so easily.

Nevertheless, she was glad that she’d decided to make her way to the secluded town of Lyme Regis. Although she enjoyed the excitement of town, Bond Street wasn’t enough motivation to coerce her to stay when she was forced into this man’s proximity so frequently. At least there, she knew for certain that she could be free of him.

She gritted her teeth and forced a smile upon her face. She was more determined now than ever before to set her plans into motion once this ball concluded.

Until then, she would have to contend with him.

He continued to make his presence known throughout the meal. She could feel those dark eyes upon her, assessing, tempting, even when she was doing her best to ignore him and listen with rapt attention to her companion on the opposite side. Regrettably, the aged lord likely gained the wrong impression from her attentions, for he requested the first dance after supper, and claimed he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Calliope sighed inwardly, feeling the stirrings of a megrim starting to take root. It wasn’t until she reluctantly stared in frustration at the third course of her meal that the viscount leaned over and whispered in her ear, “It’s going well with Lord Evans, I see. I do believe he was looking for a young lady of good breeding stock to fill his nursery after his wife died. A rather large one, if memory serves correctly—”

She nearly threw her serviette down in exasperation, as she turned to him with a scathing glare. “At least he doesn’t annoy me to the point I wish to stab him with my silverware!”

He put a hand over his heart. “I’m honored that you think so much of me.”

She laughed aloud and drew a few glances in their direction. She tried to cover her faux pas with a light cough. “You’re delusional if you believe that is what I meant.”

He shrugged. “It was an honest mistake. You say a lot of things you don’t mean.”

The glare returned. “I do not!”

His dark gaze turned smoky and dropped to her mouth. “Are you quite sure about that, Lady Calliope? You claim you don’t have any interest in me, and yet your body tells me something else entirely with your deepened breathing, the flush on your cheeks, and the sparkle in those amazing eyes of yours. It is quite absent when you are speaking to your other companion.”

“How can you possibly ascertain that?” Calliope pursed her lips, but her pulse sped up even so. “You can’t even see my face.”

“I don’t need to. The evidence is in your shoulders. You’re relaxed, but when you speak to me, you tense everywhere.” His gaze fell to her lap. “Even your thighs are pressed together to assuage the ache there.”

Calliope had always prided herself on her level-headedness. She didn’t allow many things to disturb her, preferring to live life with a bit more freedom. But with Lord Blakely’s observations, it was difficult not to be unnerved. While she had been kissed before, by a couple of lads in Broxbourne near her father’s hunting box, who got a bit too eager when she’d still been in pinafores, it had never made her feel anything more than a silly fluttering in the pit of her stomach. But just the thought of kissing the viscount caused her veins to rush with liquid fire.

Since Calliope was not one to bow down and admit defeat easily, she laid a hand upon his thigh beneath the table, quite close to the impressive bulge between his legs. She heard his sharp intake and reveled in it. “It’s not polite to engage in such lewd conversation during supper, my lord. Besides, you never know when you might meet your equal when it comes to the power of observation.” She lifted a brow and allowed her hand to drift even higher, until her fingertips nearly brushed the length at the juncture of his hips. “For example, see how your hands are fisted on the table? And the way your jaw is clenched? They are clear indications that you are just as bothered by my presence.” Her hand slid away slowly. Satisfied, she allowed a small grin to grace her face as she picked up her fork once more. “Shall we eat now?”

She took a bite of her boiled potatoes and made sure he was watching as she slid the fork past her lips. Then she let her tongue dart out and lick them clean. His eyes darkened immediately, fixated on the action. She closed her eyes and murmured, “Mmmm. Delicious.”

She smiled, for the rest of supper passed in blessed silence, as Lord Blakely said very little. Calliope also noticed that his appetite had waned considerably.

When the meal had concluded, he excused himself with a mumbled excuse and practically fled from the table.

Calliope accepted Lord Evans arm and allowed him to escort her back to the ballroom with a victorious spring in her step.

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