Rebellious Rakes: Rake Most Likely to Rebel. Bronwyn Scott
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salle d’armes and while his skill was respected, he was still an outsider. Surely, no one there would have told him.
‘By trial and error mostly. Shopkeepers.’ His eyes rested on her. ‘I did not think it would prove to be such a secret.’
‘My brother likes his privacy,’ she answered shortly, making sure he heard the warning in that and the caution not to come again. Visitors were not welcome.
‘And you? Do you like your privacy as well?’ Haviland was probing now and not so subtly.
‘When I want company, I go out.’ Her retort was pointed, in the hopes of dissuading him from pursuing this line of question. It would be a good time to let the subject drop. They’d arrived at the wide gates of the Luxembourg Gardens, and there was a small crowd of people to navigate: nannies with children, children with kites and boats for sailing in the fountains. She was conscious of Haviland’s hand moving to the small of her back to negotiate the knots of people at the entrance.
Even the smallest, most mundane touch from him sent a jolt through her. Some men just knew how to touch a woman. Haviland North was one of them. Etienne’s touch had been comfortable, but nothing like this. If a simple touch from him could ignite such a reaction, it made one wonder what other more intimate touches could do.
‘Like last night?’ he said once they’d found their way clear of the people at the entrance. Touches like last night? Those had certainly been more intimate. It took her a moment to remember where they’d left the conversation. Then she realised with no small amount of disappointment he was not talking about touches, but about company.
‘Did you come looking for me or for any company in general?’ His tone was edged with ice. He’d misunderstood her answer. He was thinking she was a loose woman, looking for intimate male company whenever and wherever it pleased her. She wanted him to be warm and charming as he had been last evening, as he had been before he knew who she was and everything had turned into a fencing match of the verbal variety. Her identity had made him wary as she’d known it would.
‘You approached me, as I recall. You crossed the room.’ It would be entertaining to banter with him if so much wasn’t at stake. He was clever and bold, not afraid to say the audacious. It made conversation an adventure, wondering what would come next, what her response would be. ‘I hardly think it’s fair to blame me.’
He shrugged, contemplating, his eyes on her mouth. ‘If I had known who you were from the start, it might have changed the, ah, “direction” of the evening. There’s no denying being who you are complicates things. I kissed the sister of my fencing instructor. Surely, you can understand the precarious position that puts me in.’
Kissed was a relative understatement and they both knew it. They’d acted precipitously. She’d been a stranger to him. They’d owed each other nothing but passion in those moments. Then she’d become someone and everything changed.
‘And I kissed my brother’s star pupil. Certainly, you can understand the position that puts me in.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘No, I’m afraid I don’t. What position is that, exactly?’
She met his smile with a coy one of her own. They were expert wits toying with one another the way expert fencers tested the skills of their opponents. How much to reveal? How much to conceal? ‘The position of deciding whether or not I can trust you. There’s so much to consider if we were to become, shall we say, entangled.’ It was hard to play cool with his body so close to hers, his eyes lingering every so often on her mouth, just enough to remind her of what their mouths could do. She had to resist. She could flirt all she liked, but ultimately, resistance was in her best interest. She needed to keep him close, but not too close. Too much intimacy and he would start asking more questions.
‘What is there to consider?’ he drawled, playing his end of the game with audacious charm. He was overtly in pursuit, driving her towards a particular conclusion to this conversation by stripping away her objections.
But she knew the game. Alyssandra ticked off the considerations on her fingers. ‘First, I must consider your motives. Are you using me to gain an entrée with my brother? If so, it won’t work. I don’t appreciate being made an intermediary pawn and my brother doesn’t receive anyone. Second, I must ask myself what kind of liaison are you looking for? Based on what I’ve seen of your like-minded countrymen, I can only assume you’re looking for a short-term sexual companion, an exotic adventure to write home about. That, too, is an unappealing motivation. I have no desire to become an Englishman’s souvenir, a story that is trotted out in his clubs back home when he’s sloshed with brandy and reminiscing.’
Her words were sharp as she laid down her terms. She’d meant them to be. She wanted him to understand she would not be used no matter how strong their attraction. But Haviland merely laughed and gave her a wide smile. ‘I agree entirely. Neither option sounds even remotely appealing. Those are not things I would ever want for myself.’ That wide smile almost disarmed her.
Almost. Agreement was a most effective strategy and while she hadn’t expected it, she was ready for it. ‘I suppose you want me to ask what do you want?’ She tried for a bored tone, or at least one that suggested she’d travelled this path before when, in reality, she couldn’t tear her gaze from his blue eyes and her pulse speeded up in anticipation of his answer. What could a man with a perfect life possible want that he didn’t already have?
His voice dropped, low and private, and the size of her world shrank with it until nothing existed but him, her and the tree at her back. ‘What if I said I was looking for something else—an escape? What if I could offer that same escape to you? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be interested. I can see the tension in you. Your life is not a free one. I can see it.’ Those blue eyes dropped to her mouth again. ‘Why not escape, even if it’s just for a little while, to find pleasure with a man who knows how to provide it?’
He was bold. ‘Are you propositioning me?’ She could be bold, too. The game was heating up. Too bad she could do nothing more than let the pot boil.
Haviland shook his head. ‘No, nothing as base as that. I’m merely asking you to consider the possibilities, that’s all.’ He smiled and leaned towards her ear, his voice a whisper. ‘I have already considered the possibilities and found them positively delectable.’
She was going to swoon right there and she might have if she hadn’t been so sure that was what he was after. It took all of her sangfroid to muster the words, ‘Has a woman ever said no to you, Haviland North?’
He grinned. ‘No, not that I recall.’
She leaned into him, letting her mouth hover as near to him as she dared without touching. ‘Then this is your lucky day. I’m about to be your first.’
He chuckled, low and throaty, a sexy invitation to repeal her decision. He didn’t take rejection like any man she’d ever known. ‘Then I shall delight in helping you change your mind.’
‘You flirt like you fence, all balestra and lunge.’
‘It’s an aggressive combination.’ His response was sexy and sharp in its immediacy. His eyes hooded so she couldn’t see them, his forehead pressed to hers. ‘So you did know me before last night. So you have seen me fence.’ His tone was flintily accusatory.
She bit her lip. ‘I did say your reputation preceded you. It stands to reason that you’re a phenomenal fencer if my brother is willing to take you on.’
‘So you did.’
She swallowed. He was going to kiss her. And he might have if Madame Aguillard hadn’t swept down upon them with her little coterie of friends.
‘There you are, monsieur le vicomte! And how nice to see you, too, mademoiselle.’ She nodded at Alyssandra. ‘You’re out twice in as many days,’ she added cattily, her eyes drifting between the two of them, but it was clear who the centre of her attention was. ‘My friends have been dying to meet